


Fruits of Knowledge

by esama



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dehydration, Do not repost, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sleep Deprivation, Starvation, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:49:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20228116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: Ezio has the Apple back from the Borgia, and now has to contend with possessing it





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Proofread by nimadge

Ezio keeps the Apple close, lest it be secreted away again. Twice he has now lost the accursed thing, and both times to disastrous effect – first, to the chaos of Florence under the reign of Savonalora, and then to the Borgia and to the tyranny in Rome. Now he has it back and dares not to let it slip from his side – now, he knows the threat of it falling into the wrong hands too well. And the danger of keeping it, too.

It calls to him in the silent moments, in the darkness of the night when he tries to seek his rest. Flickers of light and distant whispers – it is ever tempting to reach for it, to use it, to see what it has to show. Altaïr had managed it, Altaïr had learned great things from it, tools, weapons, the future… surely he could do the same, he thinks, and then turns away, wary. It is a powerful thing, and he has many questions – but what had Savonalora learned from the Apple, what had the Borgia? What had Leonardo, who Ezio knows is still plagued by dreams of numbers, who still scribbles machines into margins of his works only to tear them out later, horrified.

_ Use me, _ the Apple whispers, _ And it shall all be revealed._

It has almost a feminine voice, the damned thing. Had Leonardo heard it too? Does he still hear it?

"Preserve me," Ezio mutters, running a hand over his face. He is tired – it is a third night of poor sleep and the Sun will soon begin its ascent. The Apple is shining through the pouch he keeps it in, and its murmur had reached his mind through what little sleep he had gotten. Again, he's woken more tired than he was upon lying down.

He should lock it away somewhere – but _ where?_ There is no place in the hideout safe from the curious fingers and lock picking tools of Assassins and thieves alike, and he dares not let his students be tempted. No place outside he dares to trust to keep the Apple either, none he can trust no one will find. The safest place is at his side, this is proven now, and for that, he suffers.

_ Use me, _ the Apple whispers again, _ And you shall see. _

And perhaps he would, at that, if he reached and used the thing. It might very well show him a vault, such as the one under the Sistine Chapel that keeps the Staff now. A vault just for the Apple, to keep it contained with magic of ancient gods, beyond the reach of those but the ones who they wished to enter. Like Ezio.

Like Desmond.

_ Use me, _ the Apple murmurs, _ And you will know. _

That's the worst temptation – to reach and know the god whom his existence serves. The name that lingers in his mind, never fully forgotten. Always there, that question. Desmond, Desmond, who is _ Desmond,_ where is he and how is he watching, how does Ezio anchor him – can he, at last, answer the questions Ezio barely allows himself to voice?

Weary, Ezio sighs and lets his hands drop to hang between his knees, his back bowed, his head bent low – feeling every year of his service to the Brotherhood.

The morning is still dark enough to be called a night, and no one is awake on the streets beyond his window. There is some activity in the hideout itself, of course – a novice on watch, stationed at the main hall, another up in the highest level, keeping an eye on the city. It is a task of training, but an important one – especially so now, that their main enemies are but fallen, and their usefulness thus at an he end.

The Borgia are all but gone now. Lucrezia had fled, Cesare is imprisoned – Rodrigo, dead. With the back of their power broken and their supporters disappeared or feigning innocence, Rome now ill needs a force such as the Assassins, not when there are new treaties of power to be wrought, new deals to be struck. Formerly an unfortunate necessity to be borne, the Assassins had played their part in the liberation of Rome – now they stand to oppose whoever would follow, should they try and follow the Borgia's footsteps. Any night, the presence of the Assassins might become troublesome to someone with power, and they might gather up a force and come to burn their hall to the ground.

It wouldn't be the first time in Assassin history.

_ Use me, and you will be saved. _

"Shut up," Ezio murmurs, rubbing his fingers over his eyes, bringing them to pinch the bridge of his nose. He is too old to stay awake for days on end and the sleepless nights wear on him. Could he entrust the Apple to Machiavelli, for a turn? The man knew to respect it, knew its threat, knew to…

… no, he could not trust him. Machiavelli reveres power too much to resist its call. He would try to, but he would break, he'd reach for the thing, and if the Apple did not corrupt him, it would lead him to someone who would be thusly persuaded.

_ Use me… _

Sighing, Ezio stands to pull on his clothes, angry and clumsy with exhaustion, tying the satchel of the Apple to his waist, hidden under his cape. Maybe there might be a casket he could lock it in, some container of iron or lead that might muffle its voice. Maybe he could put it into a cask of water, and silence it like that.

Maybe.

Irritated, he sets to find out.

* * *

Ezio had planned to use the Apple when he finally retrieved it. He had meant to use it before, after the vision. He'd been waiting for an opportune moment, waiting for things to wind down to a peaceful halt before giving himself to mystery. He'd meant to do it in Monteriggioni… but he had not gotten the chance. It had been one of the things that kept him going, through the losses, the pain. _ Get the Apple back, get answers._ A solid goal which did not necessarily call for death.

Then he had seen the effect of the Apple on Leonardo. The engineer bears its brunt with grace – but there's a deep rooted weariness to him now, which is aching to see. Leonardo, so brilliant in so many ways, so full of optimism and light… had been left weary of his own mind, exhaustedly burdened by the weight of things he now knew and could only barely contain. Some of that old joy, for creation, for artistry, for beauty, is returning now that he is no longer under the Borgia's yoke… but the exhaustion is still there.

When he does not know that someone is looking at him, Leonardo slumps down, too exhausted to even close his eyes, so tired he seems. And it is exhaustion no amount of sleep will ever cure. The Apple had left him forever scarred and pained by _ knowledge_.

Ezio goes to him now, not knowing how to even ask, but knowing there's no one who would know better. Leonardo is awake early too, that morning – sketching something in charcoal on a wood panel, looking as though he has not slept much. Or perhaps he had yet to go to bed. He is not startled by Ezio's presence, which makes Ezio a little sad, remembering old times.

"Oh, Ezio," Leonardo lifts his head and smiles with the ghost of the old enthusiasm. "I didn't hear you come in – how are you, my friend?"

"I wish I could say as well as I have ever been, but I would be lying, I have not been sleeping well," Ezio admits, stepping closer. "Nor have you, by the look of you."

Leonardo's eyes flicker down to Ezio's waist and then away – he knows he carries the Apple. There's a hint of tension by his cheek, a flex as he grits his teeth, and then he smiles. "And sleeplessness brings you to my door?" he says, with amusement and something Ezio can't quite place in his tone. "I'm afraid I have no sleeping draughts to offer."

"Alas, it is not sleeping aid I seek – but answers," Ezio says and sits on a bench not far from him, looking over a work table of sketches and writing. They seem to be mostly about birds – no war machines in sight. "And the questions I have I fear will not be comfortable ones for you."

"Ah," Leonardo says, not looking at him. "It keeps you awake."

"Aye," Ezio says and sighs. "And I find I cannot bear the sleepless night with former vigour. If this keeps up, I fear I will lose my mind. Or do something drastic." Like chuck the damn Apple into the Tiber River for someone to find, just for a single night's rest.

Leonardo lets out a quiet sound, almost a laugh, full of sympathy. "I know the feeling well," he answers. "You have my condolences."

"You had the Apple in your possession, when the Borgia had you build for them," Ezio says. "Was there any way…?"

"To silence it?" Leonardo asks and sighs, pushing his work away and folding his arms upon the work table. "Yes, and no. All goes quiet when you do use it… for a while. It has an insidious mechanism to it, it is like opium. It calls to you to use it, and for a while you feel respite, you feel calm, you feel as though the whole of creation makes perfect crystal clear sense, and all is quiet… and then the noise begins trickling in again, growing louder and _ louder _ until you reach for it again."

Good Lord. "You couldn't figure a way to resist it?"

"Oh, my friend, I didn't even want to," Leonardo says, and now Ezio knows the tone of his voice – it is bitterness. "I wanted all it had to give me – I only realised later what restless urge it became, to reach for more. By then it was too late."

Not knowing what to say to that, what comfort to offer, Ezio looks away from him, from the restless movement of his fingers. "Eve's Apple indeed," Ezio murmurs. "I meant to use it, you know. When we came back from Vatican, Mario and I, I intended to use the Apple to see if I could divine answers from it, an explanation for what happened in that Vault."

Leonardo's fingers still at that. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't quite remember," he says slowly. "What did happen to you and Mario in Vatican?"

Ezio lifts his head. Had he not told Leonardo, had he not – no, Leonardo hadn't been in Monteriggioni then, had he? By then he'd already been pressed into the Borgia's service, making weapons for them. And after that there were so many things to speak of, Leonardo's machines, the Borgia's tyranny… there had never been time for fantasy.

Ezio clears his throat, sitting up a little straighter. "When I went after Rodrigo in the Vatican, in the Sistine Chapel, the fight led us through a hidden door to a chamber under the basilica. There is an ancient vault there, built by those who made the Apple, I believe. I do not know what Rodrigo thought he would gain there, but with the Apple and the Papal Staff, a hidden chamber was opened."

"A hidden chamber in a hidden chamber?" Leonardo asks, making a face.

"Hm," Ezio agrees, wryly amused also. "I bested Rodrigo, and while he was down I went to the second chamber, into a room flecked with golden inscription that shone with light. There I met an image of a goddess. Minerva, who spoke of Jupiter and Juno – Roman gods."

Leonardo is turning to him fully now, his face open with wonder now, more like his old self than before.

"I – lord, if I'd known I would have brought the book," Ezio mutters. "I wrote what she said down, later, as well as I could remember it. She called me a Prophet, and she left me a message – not for myself, but someone named Desmond… she spoke to them through me."

Ezio explains what Minerva told him as well as he can, as well as he understood it. The visions she showed, the glowing orbs in blackness, the fire, the death, the time… the message. He cannot convey the feeling of it, though, how small he felt, hearing it, how insignificant. So little of it made sense, and he could feel how little he was even meant to understand.

It still haunts him, how she looked as she stared as though at nothing, how she sounded – as though spellbound, and sad, and proud.

"A great glowing orb, surrounded by smaller orbs," Leonardo murmurs, stroking his beard. "I had wondered…"

"What? What is it?" Ezio asks.

Leonardo looks up and then folds his arms, leaning back a little. "The Earth, and all the celestial bodies, go around the Sun," he says. "This we know."

"We do?" Ezio murmurs.

"But if Earth and other celestial bodies are as I believe they are, and work as I believe they do, then… the Sun has to be truly _ massive, beyond_ our comprehension," Leonardo muses and shrugs. "An enormous orb of fire, unimaginably far away."

Ezio arches his brows. "The Sun is – fire?"

"Or something like it," Leonardo says and waves a hand. "Does it not burn, do its rays, seen through magnifying glass, not create fire?" he waves his hand. "Did the goddess say when it is, that the Sun sends its fire upon Earth?"

"No, but she said time grew short, and that other temples would need to be found," Ezio admits. And this was five years ago...

"If they have means to protect the world from Heavenly Fire, then I daresay they must," Leonardo agrees, frowning. "Good god, such a thing – of all disasters, that one might end all life upon this world. Fire from the Sun, large enough to burn celestial objects. Surely it would send the seas boiling."

Suddenly, Ezio's issues with sleep seem very insignificant. "Do you think it is truly possible?" he asks, shocked. "A world-ending fire – you think it might truly happen?"

Leonardo casts him a look, complicated and then sympathetic, rueful. "The Apple showed me many things," he admits. "Only few of them were weapons. The mechanisms that move the world, the winds, the Earth, they are…" he sighs. "I wanted to understand the air currents and the Apple showed me the intricate system of flows in air, in water, in the ground itself, how it all connects. How easily it all might be disrupted."

Ezio eyes him warily. "And Fire from Heaven _ is _ enough to disrupt it?"

"Oh, easily, I expect. It is a terribly fragile balancing act, the winds and the weather," Leonardo says. "What makes rain, what keeps the clouds at bay, winds and rising currents, the Sun… tip the scale to one end, and even Rome will freeze – and to the other, and there will be lifeless deserts where we stand. I dare say, a fire that burns the Earth might cause both, in their turn."

His friend has become something of a wizard, Ezio muses, rubbing his hands together as though he can feel them both, the fire, the desert heat, and the frost. Somehow, all of it rings terribly true. Like somewhere _ someone _ understands.

He shakes his head. "Then I must find these temples," he says. "And do what I can to prevent it."

Leonardo looks at him and then leans forward. "It has been now five years, no?" he asks. "Have you not looked at all?"

Ezio gives him a look. "I was rather busy," he says pointedly. "The loss of the Apple and the rise of the Borgia rather took precedence. It was always my intention to look for more vaults." Or had been his and Mario's plan, honestly, but then… 

Leonardo makes a face. "I suppose I didn't do much to make you less busy," he muses.

"Don't concern yourself over it – what is done is done, and by now behind us," Ezio says and looks at him. "It is behind us, isn't it, Leonardo?"

"Yes, yes – I hope so," Leonardo says and Ezio arches his brows. Quickly the artist amends, "All the designs were destroyed, yes, you can be sure of that, but there were architects working with me, engineers – I can't account for what they learned or what teachings they might put into use in the future."

"Well, if they are only derivations upon your work, we should be able to handle it," Ezio murmurs and runs a hand over his face. "Though the last thing I need is another of your machines appearing – or any bastardisation of one."

"I am relatively hopeful there should be none," Leonardo promises him and then asks, "How do you mean to look for the vaults? The Codex is gone, isn't it?"

"Yes," Ezio says slowly. "Or lost, at any rate. But Altaïr learned the map hidden within it from the Apple – and that I now have."

For a moment neither of them says anything, Leonardo glancing down and Ezio feeling terribly aware of the Apple's presence at his waist. Then Leonardo shifts where he sits, looking uncertain, before standing. He begins pulling the window shutters shut, tugging curtains over them to block out light.

Ezio watches him before taking the pouch from his waist and looking at it. Now that he means to use it, it had gone blessedly silent in his hand, as though waiting.

"Minerva seemed to entrust the fate of the world to Desmond, whoever that is," Ezio says quietly. "I do not believe she ever meant for me to do anything about it." And the thought still sends shivers down his spine.

Leonardo doesn't answer immediately, seeing the task of blocking the windows to the conclusion before turning to him. "If the very _ world _ is in danger, surely we must do what we can. Anyone would."

Ezio hums in agreement. As it is, she denied being a god – denied even being alive. If this Desmond could save the world, then good, but could they trust it, could they rely upon it, knowing so little? As it is…

"Nothing is True," Ezio murmurs, peeling back the leather covering the artefact. "Everything is permitted."

Leonardo makes a quiet sound as the Apple is revealed and its shimmering glow lights up the darkened workshop. As always, it is a strange thing to hold – neither warm nor cold. Neither light nor as heavy as it looks. It feels hard in his hand, but fragile, like an egg shell, and yet Ezio knows it to be nearly indestructible. It is wholly abnormal in so many ways.

Ezio can feel it in his mind, its tendrils like gentle scent sneaking its way into his awareness, sweetly elusive but undeniable.

"Show me other vaults," Ezio demands it and the Apple feels as though it _ leaps _ in his hand, pulsing with energy. "Show me the means to save the world – show me where I can find Desmond."

There the Apple stalls and struggles, and the gleeful buildup of energy stutters – Ezio can _ feel _ it resist. It would show him vaults, even the means to preserve the world, but it does not want to show him Desmond.

It feels almost _ startled _ at the demand, as though it was alive and he had surprised it.

"Show me where I can find Desmond," Ezio says and by instinct and some barely smothered angry frustration born from the sleepless nights, he applies his will to the demand. He had seen so many horrors come from the Apple, read of them in the Codex – and if the things the Apple willingly gives are dangerous, temptations and corruptions in disguise... what does that mean for the things it refuses? "Show Desmond to me – tell me where I can find him. Show me!"

Leonardo looks nervous in his peripheral vision, shifting where he stands, while the Apple flares with light, fighting Ezio. Ezio, however, isn't a man who gives up, not a man who relents – nor is he one who forgives.

_ It is because of you that Mario is dead. Because of you that Monteriggioni was lost. You gave Savonarola power, and because of it Florence fell into chaos and Cristina died – you, seed of evil, how many horrors have your temptations caused? You will give me this, now, _"Tell me where I can find him!"

The Apple's light bursts like a bomb had been thrown, and it is as though day had dawned inside Leonardo's workshop – a great glowing sphere, not altogether dissimilar from the ones Minerva showed him, appears before them. On the sphere there are the shapes of lands, familiar and unfamiliar, like on the map of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. Upon the land, markers had been drawn.

"The map!" Leonardo breathes and then scrambles for paper and charcoal to sketch it out. Ezio stands to take a look as well, peering at the shape of a familiar peninsula, the markers drawn upon it.

There are more than just the one.

"This is incredible," Leonardo says, walking around the sphere. "All these lands we know nothing about! Look here – look at the size of it! This ocean!"

"You didn't see this when you had the Apple?" Ezio asks.

"It was never so clear, no – images upon my mind only, nothing as simple as a full vision such as this," Leonardo says, amazed. "I do believe you have greater command over it than I, my friend."

Ezio hums, not sure if that's something to be joyful about, and then points to the Italian peninsula. "Does it not look like there are more –"

His finger brushes against the image, and he almost jumps back at the sphere expands at a sudden, shocking rate, for a second looking as though it's coming at his face. But no, the sphere stays in place – or rather, the point where his finger touches it stays in place, while the rest of it grows.

In a mere breath's time, the map of the peninsula grows from a finger length to take over the entire workshop. And Ezio was right – there are multiple markers upon it. Two in Rome alone.

Leonardo steps closer, giddy. "Lord, I hope it did not expand in full – because by now the other side must show through the house," he says with a nervous laugh. "Can you go closer still?"

Ezio can, though the map sadly lacks the details of the city, it shows some of the hills and he can recognize the rivers near by. The area of Rome, before the Rome as they know it was built upon it.

"If this is the one under the Sistine chapel," Ezio points and moves his finger to the other form, "then_ this _ is… perhaps under the Colosseum?"

The marks have grown into structures now, with runs and branches – full on constructions, hidden underground.

"Or somewhere nearby," Leonardo agrees slowly as he sketches the map out quickly. "Do you think your Gift would find it?"

Ezio considers the structure and then sets his jaw. "I think we better go find out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what I missed writing Ezio's pov again (and always).


	2. Chapter 2

Ezio is used to movement in the early and late hours, when the city is quiet and shadows are deep and long and sometimes even the moon isn't enough to light the darkness. It is almost dawn now, but it is still too early for most people – even the courtesans are no longer on the streets. There are some guards, pacing the streets, but nowhere near the numbers there were in the time of the Borgia regime.

It's quite nice, really – or would be, if Ezio did not find himself shivering and feeling oddly miserable. It's not even that cold, truly, and his robes are thick, but shiver he does nonetheless.

"It's the tiredness," Leonardo says. "It saps away your energy, leaves you cold."

"I wouldn't have guessed," Ezio says, sarcastic.

Leonardo gives him a look, pacing with him. "You have been eating, I hope?" he says. "I found myself forgetting, when I was using – when I was in possession of the artefact. Salaì had to remind me."

Ezio frowns, uncertain. "I have been eating," he says, though now that he thinks about it, it might have only been the communal evening meal, shared with all the Assassins present at the hideout. During the mornings, did he remember to eat? Due to the irregular hours Assassins keep, there is no set time for breakfast at the hall, everyone ate when ever they woke. Ezio cannot tell if he had lately. The most he'd done was close himself in his office and go through reports in an attempt to silence the Apple's whispers.

It rarely worked.

Leonardo considers his answer and then stops a farmer, heading for the market with a hand cart loaded full of fresh fruit. "My good man, may I bother you for some of your wares – I'll pay handsomely," he says. And with a sigh Ezio stops to wait until Leonardo has purchased them figs, apples and grapes.

"I am not a child," Ezio says, when Leonardo presses a fig in his hands.

"I was hungry also," the engineer says, smiling. "Though I must say, now that I see you in a natural light, you look dreadfully pale, my friend. Sleepless nights really do you no favours."

Ezio sighs and bites into the fig. "Nights are fine – it's the lack of sleep in general that's the issue. I'd sleep at noon if I could," he mutters.

They continue their way out of the city. Leonardo is obviously taking it as an invigorating adventure, his whole demeanour strengthening as they go, his stride lengthening, smile coming to his face. The early morning light does not paint the shadows under his eyes in kind hues, he still looks weary – but there's an energy there which was lacking before.

For that alone, Ezio muses, the exercise is worth it, his shivers and headache aside.

"I haven't been taking as much exercise as I should," Leonardo says, with an echo of youthful vigour. "It's tremendously good for you, you know. Well, I suppose I don't have to tell you, climbing as you do across the city's rooftops you get more exercise than most. But sitting, sitting is the worst for your body."

"One would think rest is good for you," Ezio says, smiling a little, encouraging him to argue.

And he does, "No, no, it's terrible for the body. Did I ever tell you what became of my anatomy studies?" Leonardo asks. "I dissected monks and soldiers alike, and you wouldn't believe the difference in people's spinal structure, just on the basis of their occupations…"

Ezio hardly cares about what a man's employment does to his bones, but it's rather exciting to listen to Leonardo talk – it always makes it seem like the world is ripe for exploring and for discovery, as though every old thing is seen new through the artist's eyes. It certainly makes the time pass quicker as they make their way out of the city and he makes his way through a couple of figs and an apple on top. It does help with the ill-feeling, in the end.

The Colosseum has a blanket of thin, cold mist lingering by its roots, and dew, clinging to the grasses and bushes that grow on the lower levels. The people that live in the place, beggars, whores, vagabonds, are mostly asleep, but there are the watchful few who spot them and then keep an eye on them, as they make their way through towards the centre.

"It never ceases to amaze me, the ingenuity of our ancestors," Leonardo murmurs, motioning around them. "Over a thousand years it's stood! And still in such a great shape. What a shame that it's been left to lie fallow like this."

"Repairing it would cost more than any kingdom is willing to spend," Ezio says, snorting. "It would take a very rich madman to even try."

"Like _ you_. You financed the Aqueducts," Leonardo comments. "You tried to hide it, but I know your handiwork when I see it – your script was all over those budgets."

Ezio shrugs, feigning modesty. "And how did you see the budgets for those repair operations?" he asks curiously.

"I worked for the Borgia – they had an interest in the matter and had me estimate the budget of the repairs," Leonardo answers and looks around the Colosseum. "They wanted to know who was behind it and whether the project could be intended to undermine their power in Rome somehow."

"Smart of them – it was," Ezio agrees, smiling.

"I suspected," Leonardo agrees. "It seemed too good to be real, its intentions too pure. I do not see how any of the noble families would put their money to it. How much did it cost?"

"Nothing I couldn't earn back later," Ezio shrugs. "And people are more likely to revolt when they _ aren't _ constantly suffering from diarrhoea. So it was worth every florin."

Leonardo shakes his head, impressed and smiling, and then looks at the Colosseum around them. "So, why not this place?" he asks. "Not enough potential return for your investment?"

Ezio looks around, folding his arms. "No, not nearly enough," he agrees. "It would take the circus of ancients to pay back the repair here, and I doubt modern people would be so invested in seeing gladiatorial fights. Theatre, perhaps, but you can do that in the Colosseum as it is right now."

He had, during a bit of boredom and under the influence of a bottle or two, put together a repair estimate on the Colosseum, what it would take to rebuild it and make use of it. More than it would ever be worth, not even in a hundred years, was the answer – but it had been an entertaining idea, Colosseum sports as sponsored by the Assassin Brotherhood.

Leonardo sighs, wistful. "It would be something, to see it as it was, when it was at its prime," he says. "They used to _ flood _ it, you know. They had mechanisms to divert water here, to make an arena for sea battles. Can you imagine it?"

Ezio can't, actually. "Really?" he asks. "How on earth?"

"I have no idea," Leonardo says, laughing. "I always wished to figure it out, but there was never any time."

"Well, perhaps now we can take a look, see what we can find," Ezio says and closes his eyes, breathing slowly out.

When he opens them, the world has gone dark but for the sky, grey and pale – and for Leonardo, who glows incandescently golden at his side. Oddly warmed by his friend's shine, Ezio turns to look around, to see if anything shone under his altered vision.

"I think I will climb a little higher to see," Ezio says. "Wait here."

"Certainly," Leonardo says, and then goes to examine the edges of the stage, humming to himself as he goes. Ezio climbs the nearest wall of old concrete, hauling himself up and then jumping from wall to wall until he got to the stand itself, climbing higher still.

The people living in the place are watching him, curiously interested, but not willing to involve themselves with an Assassin, likely. Ezio keeps his distance from them to not spook them, and finds himself a pole to stand on.

There, finally, he sees something. A shimmering golden thing, half hidden near the stage, not far from where Leonardo is examining the structure. Something there, a hidden door, a collapsed wall perhaps… it's calling to him – calling for the Apple. _ This way._

Ezio plots a route through the stones and then makes his way back down to Leonardo, leaving the Colosseum squatters to their business. "I saw something – I think it might be a way under the place."

"Your Gift is truly a marvel," Leonardo says, distracted by considering the stonework. "I do believe there are rooms and chambers under this stage," he comments. "I wonder if they were flooded during the sea games."

"If they weren't, where else would the water go?" Ezio asks.

"Into the sewers? Or perhaps there are chambers underneath for the water to flow into, once they were done with the sea battles," Leonardo muses, and shaking his head Ezio directs him towards the glimmer he'd seen.

It's nothing as useful as a door or a staircase – just a loose, crumbling stone floor, which threatens to give away under his foot. "I believe this is our way down," Ezio comments.

"You intend to break through the floor?" Leonardo asks, dismayed.

Ezio smiles, apologetic, and then begins kicking the broken floor, until a tile loosens enough to fall and then another. Leonardo winces as though in real pain, but eventually helps, examining the stones and then delivering a precise kick in a junction between the two, sending both of them below. Soon, the hole is big enough for them to climb.

"I'll go down first," Ezio offers.

"Watch your head, there are still stones that might fall – and they're heavy enough to break your skull," Leonardo says, concerned, and with a nod Ezio takes care as he shimmies down and then drops into the hole.

It's dark inside, almost pitch black, so Ezio takes out his tinder box to light a rush. By the time Leonardo begins making a careful way down, he has a light for them.

"Oh, it stinks down here," Leonardo murmurs. "What is that?"

"Sewers, I'd say," Ezio muses. "Though the air always gets heavy in old closed up rooms. This way, I think."

Leonardo peers at the walls curiously as they walk through the nearly labyrinthine chambers under the Colosseum. "I think the actors and the gladiators came through here," he says, in a low whisper. "They hid here, ready to play their parts, and then they just popped up on the surface, as if appearing from nowhere, shocking the audience. How brilliant!"

Ezio grins. He should take Leonardo to old ruins more often, he makes for a delightful company.

They make their way through the tunnels, Leonardo commenting on how everything must have worked, way back when. Ezio hums along, keeping an eye about, though it doesn't look like anyone has been here for centuries. Through the tunnels they find their way into larger hidden chambers – though perhaps they weren't so hidden, when the Colosseum was at its prime. There, Ezio's senses lead them on, and finally, to a wall.

"It's a dead end," Ezio mutters, confused. His senses rarely lead him wrong.

"No," Leonardo says, running a hand over it. "Look at it – this part was built at a different time than the rest of the Colosseum. The stone work, it's different."

"Older or newer?" Ezio asks.

"I can't say, but it looks weak," Leonardo says, "And feel it, here? There is air flowing here."

Ezio feels at it and then nods. "Let's see if we can break through it, then."

"Shouldn't be too difficult, the mortar's all but worn away," Leonardo says, examining the wall closer. "Mm, here, and – here," he says, pointing. "These stones are supporting most of it – do you think you could give them a good kick?"

Ezio casts him a look. "What's wrong with your legs?"

Leonardo casts a look right back at him. "They aren't wearing any armour, and the concept of half a wall falling on my foot does not thrill me."

"And you think it does me?" Ezio says, scoffing – but goes deliver the requested kicks to the wall anyway. They don't break the wall, but Leonardo's senses prove as true as his own, it seems – the wall is considerably weakened. A final kick in the middle sends it crumbling down – and away, into the revealed chamber which goes far, far below them.

"I think we found where your water goes," Ezio comments, as they peer down.

"I'd say so, yes," Leonardo agrees and leans back. "How are we going to get down?"

"Well, I was going to jump," Ezio admits.

Leonardo gives him a startled look..

Ezio grins and pats him on the back. "I have some rope, let's see if we can make it a little safer for you."

It takes half an hour to navigate their way down, taking all possible care. There is a moment where Leonardo almost falls off the wall, but in the end they make their way to the solid ground safely, and for all that he is shaking a little, the artist seems thrilled. "Is it always like this, for you?" he asks, taking off his beret to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Not always. But often," Ezio agrees, laughing. "Are you alright, old friend?"

"Definitely feeling my age – and yet, younger than I have been in years," Leonardo says with an answering laugh and stretches his back with a groan. "Lord, I should have gone with you on your adventures when I was still in my thirties – my back does not agree with any of this. I will have to have Salaì give me a massage later, by God."

Ezio casts him a look and then shakes his head, turning ahead. "Too much sitting, perhaps?" he muses, and Leonardo lets out a snort. Ezio smiles. "We seem to have some ways to go yet," he says. "Catch your breath."

Leonardo laughs, exhilarated, while Ezio examines the room. With normal eyes he only sees walls, pillars, an old roman statue – with the Gift he sees red marks, calling to him.

When he touches them, mechanisms click, wheels turn – something changes.

"What are you doing?" Leonardo asks, curious.

"Opening a hidden door, I believe," Ezio says, and moves towards the last of the shining marks. It's on the wall by the roman statue, where – ah, it is not a wall at all, but a hidden door. It gives way as he pushes at it, revealing another chamber. "There we go. Come on, I think we're on the right track."

Leonardo shakes his head in amazement. "The things I've missed, cloistered in my workshop," he murmurs.

There's a shine of gold ahead, which makes Ezio almost snap out his blade. Beams of light brighten the dark chamber, far beyond the dim light of his rush candle – it is not a natural light, but it is familiar. "Oh," he says, urgent. "Leonardo –"

"I see it," Leonardo says, clutching his hat, as the beams of golden light coalesce into the shape of a person, tall, floating.

She, for it is very clearly a woman, speaks. _ "… we commit to this space the epilogue of our ending," _ she says, staring at the air above them, her voice airy, as if spoken in a chamber much larger than this._ "Let it be found by he who is deemed worthy. Let it guide him. Let it shape his path forward. Let it save the world we leave behind." _

"Are you – " Ezio begins to ask, but the golden shape is already breaking apart and disappearing as soon as it had appeared. For a moment Ezio stares, hopeful she will return, but there is nothing, even the flickers of light are fading.

"Was that -?" Leonardo asks.

"It wasn't Minerva, she wore a different garb," Ezio says, wary, waving his hand through the empty air. "I – it didn't seem as thought she was speaking to us."

"No, I don't think she could even see us," Leonardo murmurs, also examining the air, the floor, the walls. "Light given life, given motion… incredible, how was it done?"

"It was like that in the other Vault as well, but Minerva spoke to me – answered my questions. She could see me," Ezio says, warily.

"Strange," Leonardo agrees. "Do you think whoever they were, these people who came before, they always communicated like this, through the light?"

"I couldn't begin to tell you, my friend," the Assassin says, and looks around. "Let's move forward."

"I do not think she was… speaking to anyone. What did she say, an epilogue?" Leonardo murmurs, following him. "A final chapter – a recording. Oh, I believe it was a – a painting of sorts."

"A painting – in midair, with no canvas?" Ezio asks, dubiously.

"If she is of the people who built the Apple, then why not?" Leonardo asks, his eyes shining. "The things they must have known, the things they must have been capable of!"

Through more chambers, through a bit of climbing they move forward – Ezio has to help Leonardo through some of it, either boosting up to high ledges, or hauling him up from above. Leonardo is not a small man by any reckoning, and towards the end Ezio certainly feels it in his shoulders – he's beyond glad when, at the end, there is another golden glowing spectre that appears as they approach.

_ "In the beginning, we set our truths to parchment," _ she says. _ "To stone. To the memory of men. These proved impermanent things –" _

"Hello?" Leonardo asks, waving his hand first in front of her, and then through her. "Can you see us, can you hear us?"

_ "- cleansed by fire," _ she continues, apparently neither seeing, nor hearing. _ "Cleansed by famine. Cleansed by flood. All the world is innocent once more. Innocent and ignorant." _

And then she disappears again, her light brightening and then fading.

"I believe you're right, Leonardo," Ezio says. "It is a… record of some sort."

"Yes," Leonardo says. "Parchment, stone, memory of men – what kind of time would that take, for even stone to wear out?"

"Thousands of years," Ezio muses and looks around. "This place has certainly survived well. "

"No, my friend – look at the architecture," Leonardo says. "This place was constructed by the Romans – it's all there, in the arches."

Ezio looks and hums in agreement. They look Roman. And there are busts there too, pillars… and another hidden wall to be opened.

"This is like a set of trials," Leonardo says, watching him work. "And only a person with your Gift can enter."

"You might be right," Ezio agrees, pushing another fake wall open with a grunt. "And I think we're at the end – I smell clean air now. And – I think… incense?"

"Do you think these trials were meant for you?" Leonardo asks, coming forward. "Did they – predict you here, like they did at the Vault under the Sistine chapel?"

Ezio hesitates. "Maybe," he says, though the idea makes him somewhat uneasy. The thought to come here was so sudden and spontaneous – for ancient people to predict such acts… "Well, perhaps it means we are about to get some answers. Let's see where we've come through."

They've come through – into a church.

Leonardo peers around while Ezio helps him up. "Oh, it's Santa Maria in Aracoeli," he says, confused. "I've come here a few times for Mass – how odd. Did we fail to find it then? That's a sad disappointment."

"Don't be so sure," Ezio says. "There's something ahead."

That something proves out to be a lever, far above the altar. While Leonardo watches from below, Ezio climbs the altar and the cross, making his way up to a ledge below a painted glass window, where the lever glimmers invitingly.

"Is climbing holy symbols part of your usual adventures also?" Leonardo asks.

"Oh, no, it's a daily thing, really," Ezio says and pulls the lever with some force. "It's the church that builds the highest towers, you know."

"Ah, of course," Leonardo says, amused, and then whirls around as the church changes. Ezio turns to look as well, his eyes following the changes – poles and ladders appear, the very ceiling opening up to reveal a platform. He can see a path to take through them, from pole to pole. "Another trial," he says, amazed.

"And not an easy one," Leonardo comments from below, his tone hushed. "I do believe this place was built for you, Ezio. This whole church… it's a mechanism for this."

Ezio shivers. "Surely not."

"What else can it be?" Leonardo asks, motioning around them. "Look at this, Ezio. For this to be possible, it must have been designed upon the church's building – before it, even. It is incredible, it is – beyond anything I could have imagined. I wonder, did its builder..."

Ezio says nothing for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he moves to the ledge. "I will attempt to go through it," he says then, nodding to the poles, to the path he is clearly meant to take. "See what it will tell us."

"Please be careful," Leonardo says, worried. "I can't do much to help you with this, Ezio. Can't even catch you if you fall."

"I better not fall, then," Ezio says, taking a breath. Then he rushes the ledge and makes the first jump.

At the end of the south transept, the golden spectre waits for him.

_ "We did not build them to be wise. And now they are our final, faulted hope," _ she says. _ "You are they." _

"Build them?" Ezio murmurs, together with Leonardo who is moving to follow him below – together they stare at the golden shining figure. She stands upon a reliquary, her arms spread as she stares, again, at nothing.

She continues, ignoring their confusion, unaware of it. _ "You possess the potential for understanding. But you broke our tools. Or turned them against one another. We have destroyed what we could, sealed away what we could not." _

"I think she's talking about the devices, the Apple, the Staff," Leonardo comments.

"But what does she mean, _ build them_?" Ezio asks, an odd feeling in his gut. "She cannot be speaking of us specifically, can she?"

Leonardo hums, uncertain, and the golden spectre continues, _ "Most. Not all," _ she says. _ "And it does not take many to unwind the world. Here is a safe place. Eternal. To store objects. Words. Wisdom. But not life." _

Ezio listens and then begins moving on the poles again, vaulting from one to the next, following the path they make around the church walls, towards the platform that descended from above. All the while the spectre talks – below them, Leonardo is taking some papers from his waist pouches, to write it down.

_ "Almost did we have the means," _ she speaks and sighs. _ "But time... time erodes us." _

"Minerva said they are all dead now," Ezio calls down to Leonardo.

"Yes, and judging by how it sounds, it was a very long time ago that they died too," Leonardo says, kneeling on the floor now, writing. "To store objects, words, wisdom, hmm…"

"There might be artefacts here," Ezio says, uneasy. "Maybe other things." Thank god the Borgia had never found this place. It was under their noses all this time, and none of them had known. What else was there, what other things…

_ "We can distract him. We can see past him," _ the golden spectre says, with a sudden vigour so strong Ezio almost falters mid-jump. _ "Feint left when he strikes right. But his reach is so very long. His stamina unending," _ she sighs, bitter now. _ "We cannot evade his grasp. Not forever…." _

Ezio lands on the final platform and waits. Distract whom? Who strikes – she makes it sound as though they were under attack by someone. Ezio leans to listen, but there's no more – the golden spectre has said her part.

Who is she talking about?

"Ezio?" Leonardo calls from below. "I think she's gone again."

"Yes," Ezio agrees, and pulls the lever.

There is an echoing rumble and a clunk, and from below Leonardo calls, "Something rose from the floor, Ezio. It looks like a – a pedestal."

Ezio looks down. "I'll be right over," he says, glancing around again one last time, eyeing the ceiling, the walls, looking for clues. No more voices, no more whispers. Even the Apple is quiet. It's almost eerie, after the long, grand speech.

Ezio shivers, rubbing at his shoulder, and turns to descend from the platform, wondering.

Was she speaking… of Desmond?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old boys having adventures. Anyway I decided pairing, do your guys wanna know now or would your prefer to be surprised?


	3. Chapter 3

The name of Desmond never fully left Ezio. It was only during the busiest times, the worst days when there was no moment of rest or respite to be had, that he did not spare a single thought to it, but when there was time… the name was there. He could not forget it.

It lingered – like a whisper just at the edge of his hearing. He sometimes thought he could hear it in the crowds, could hear someone calling, _ Desmond_, only to realise it was another name instead, Demetra, Desiderio, Dario… He sometimes thought he overheard the name in conversations, heard the courtesans talk of it, heard the thieves exchange rumours. Sometimes, in the crackling of fire, he heard it.

He imagined, spent countless nights wondering. A man, a woman, a god? A being whose form he could not fathom, or something else entirely? Minerva spoke to them as though to a person – called them a _ he,_ so Ezio assumed a man, but he wondered. Who and what could Desmond be?

Who was the being whose prophet he was? There had been a prophecy, but later Ezio mused it was only a prophecy of a prophecy – Altaïr, seeing from centuries ago the message Ezio would somehow convey forward.

The name had seemed so… _ crucial._ Ezio had almost forgotten the rest of the message entirely, the celestial spheres, the sun, the fire – the destruction. He'd all but discarded it, until he told of it to Leonardo and realised its importance once more. But the _ name… _

"Is something wrong?" Leonardo asks, looking at him as Ezio moves towards the pedestal waiting near the altar, at the crossing of the transepts of the church. "Do you – sense, something?"

Ezio realises he is scowling, and wipes it off his face. "Not as such," he says. "All of this is very odd. It makes me uneasy."

How can you explain to anyone that your soul seems arrested by a _ name _ alone? Ezio has yet to figure that out, so he has not. He does not now either. "Are you ready?" he asks instead.

"For what?" Leonardo asks, looking around.

"I have no idea," Ezio admits, and lays his hand on the pedestal. "But here we go."

Under their feet, the floor trembles and breaks and begins descending – taking them with it. Leonardo wobbles a little, and Ezio steadies him with a hand, looking around quickly to make sure they are not in danger – but no, the descent is slow, and as they drop under the rest of the floor, he can see the walls are climbable. They should be able to climb back up, if they needed to.

"Aright," Leonardo murmurs. "That is... unusual."

"Quite the adventure, yes?" Ezio comments and tries to calm his racing heart as they descent. Perhaps now, finally… he would have his answer.

The chamber the platform lowers them to is familiar in design, which only enhances his excitement. Dark metal, marked with mysterious symbols and writing, which almost look as though they form pictures but which he cannot fathom the meaning of. Even Leonardo seems puzzled, though he examines the walls closely, as they move cautiously into the first chamber.

"Where is the light coming from?" Leonardo wonders, looking between the glowing text on the walls and the pool of water that takes up most of the space in the chamber. It too has a shimmer to it, making it seem as though the water itself is luminescent.

"I couldn't begin to guess, my friend," Ezio admits, eyeing the statues that flank the pool. They are of the same woman who was shown to them in the paintings of moving light. "It was thus in the other chambers too, the ones I saw five years ago – only there the glow was… warmer."

"I suppose even ancient gods may have preferences for decoration," Leonardo murmurs, tracing his fingers over the shining writing. "I wonder what is inside these walls – are there mechanisms there, some engines of alchemy…"

Ezio shakes his head, knowing he isn't expected to answer. While Leonardo peers into the writing, trying to see through the symbols perhaps, the Assassin moves forward, towards a wall on the other side, marked with a triangular grid. It looks like a door.

When he approaches it, the grid drawn on the stone lights up in blue points and then in lines that connect them to each other. The walls around them let out a shivering rumble. While Ezio steps back warily, the stone door rises on its own into the ceiling, to reveal a dark corridor beyond.

"Did – you trigger something?" Leonardo asks, quickly coming closer, while Ezio peers at the door where it had slid into the ceiling.

"No, it – happened on its own," Ezio says, uneasy.

"Seems as though we're meant to go inside. Or you are, my friend," Leonardo says, also peering at the ceiling. "Incredible – look at those designs. What do you think they mean?"

"You likely would know better than I," Ezio says and finally douses the rush candle he'd been using to light their way – it does not seem necessary any longer. This place has lighting of its own, one that defies all reason. As uneasy as it makes him, it does make it easier to see. "Come on, let's see what this place has to show us."

Leonardo doesn't even hesitate, eager to see what else there is waiting. Ezio glances after him and then moves to follow, watching as the floor lights up at each side of them, as the ceiling is marked by glowing lines. It all seems like a fantasy, a dream – like once more he has stepped into another world, one that could not have been built by human hands or human tools.

They come to a large, cavernous space, circular in shape, with several levels of platforms. The one they walk upon descends in the stairs towards a lower area, lit at the edges by blue strips. There, like a podium on a stage, stands another pedestal like the one on the church above.

And by that pedestal, beams of light are once more coalescing into the shape of a woman, shrouded and robed in light.

_ "Good," _ she says, and Ezio stills – for the first time, she is looking right at him. _ "You have completed your tasks admirably. Now take the Apple, and place it on the pedestal," _ she says, motioning to a central platform, which rises above the rest of the chamber and where another, grander pedestal stands. _ "And your part in all this will be over." _

Ezio hesitates a moment, sharing a look with Leonardo. His friend looks startled, but eager, and quickly makes a vague gesture for him to go ahead, so Ezio turns back to the golden spectre.

"I have questions," he says, slow.

_ "You have completed your tasks," _ the spectre says. _ "Place the Apple on the pedestal, and you will be done." _

When she had spoken before, it was as though she was giving a speech to a great crowd, or writing a letter – as such, Ezio had not given much thought to _ how _she spoke. Now that she is speaking to him directly, like Minerva once had, her tone and intonation come across… cold and aloof.

"I came here not to complete a task, but to get answers," Ezio says, slow and low. "About the fire and devastation Minerva warned me about."

_ "Not _ you_," _ the spectre says, almost dismissive now. _ "You are but a conduit, and your destiny has been realised. Now finish your task and be done." _

Ezio narrows his eyes. She is looking down upon him as one would onto an insect, and he feels it – her disregard for his questions, for his confusion. It matters not at all to her. "Where is Desmond?" he asks, watching her closely.

This brings a reaction. She moves and looks at him more fully now, eyes narrowed. _ "That is beyond the realm of your concerns," _ she says, firm. _ "Leave the Apple, and then leave this place – this is your final duty, Prophet. Complete it and go." _

Ezio lowers his chin a little, looking at her steadily from the shadows of his hood. Then he glances at Leonardo, who is now frowning as well, concerned and uneasy. Ezio sets his hand on the pouch where the Apple is, and the golden spectre motions him to the central platform.

The ground is rumbling again – stairs are rising from below, to make him a path to the platform and its pedestal.

_ "Complete your task and leave this place," _ the golden spectre says again, and begins to fade.

"... No," Ezio says and lowers his hands, leaving the Apple where it is. "Not before I know all I want to know –"

The spectre _ bursts._ _"YOU KNOW NOTHING," _ she intones as Ezio recoils from the light. _ "YOU WILL NEVER KNOW." _

It is sudden enough to make Leonardo gasp and step back, and Ezio almost reaches for his sword. The spectre glares at them, imposing in her brilliance – her arms spread, as though she's about to rise and fly. _ "You are nothing," _ she says, _ "but a piece of a larger whole, important only due to your placement and nothing more. You are a link in an infinite chain, just as important as all those who came before, and just as insignificant. Truth means nothing to you, you will do nothing with it. Now complete your task and BEGONE!" _

There's a force that rises from the floor, the walls, like the tingle in the air before a thunderstorm, the rising wind before a hurricane. A power rises as the chamber glows, and Ezio can feel it in his core – the spectre is doing _ something, calling_ for _ something._

At Ezio's waist, the Apple hums like a large bell that was struck, resonant and loud and yet soundless – and Ezio finds himself, unwillingly, reaching for it, opening the pouch to take it out. "What – what is this?" Ezio demands, trying to stop, but unable to control it. "What are you doing –?"

"Ezio?" Leonardo asks, alarmed.

"My body – I cannot control it –!"

The spectre smiles at them, cold.

Ezio's fingers touch the Apple and then there's an impact at his back. Leonardo, rushing at him. It is not a kind nor a graceful contact, either – the engineer all but rams into him, shoulder first, knocking him nearly off his feet.

The Apple falls from Ezio's hand into the floor in a clink of metal, the sound heavier than the Apple's weight should produce. The golden spectre shudders and flickers, and then turns to follow the Apple with her eyes as it rolls away.

Ezio lets out a gasp, the breath he had not realised he was holding escaping his lungs, while Leonardo quickly steadies him. "I'm sorry, my friend," the engineer says quickly. "But I couldn't think of what else to do, it had such a sinister glow – are you alright?"

"I am fine – I can move again, thank you – I couldn't–" Ezio stops, shaken in a way he cannot understand, confused. Then he looks up.

The spectre turns to look up from the Apple on the floor, to glare at him. _ "You _ will _ put the Apple on the pedestal, it is your destiny," _ she says, and lifts a hand towards them. _ "You _ must._" _

Ezio goes on his guard, stepping in front of Leonardo, expecting an attack. But no force rises, no attack comes – instead, behind them…

The door they came through closes with a rumble, shutting them in. Ezio looks at it, confused – and then he realises. It's the only door he can see, and it is far too big, far too heavy to be moved by human hands. They would never be able to force it open.

"Ezio," Leonardo says, hushed and shaken, grabbing at his shoulder urgently.

Ezio looks around quickly, first with normal vision and then in his Gift – but there is nothing. Even the door he knows to be one does not look like a door anymore. There is no way out, nothing they could use to escape. If the spectre sought to keep them here…

The golden spectre smiles, satisfied. _ "You will put the Apple on the pedestal," _ she says with utmost certainty. _ "And when you do, you will be released." _

Turning to her, Ezio feels his soul steel over. She wants it too much. And if she needs them to lift the Apple, it means she has no physical form, no physical power to do it herself, otherwise she would have already done it. She needs human hands to lift and move the Apple. "Tell me what I want to know, and perhaps I will," he says dangerously.

It is not what she was hoping to hear. Her expression cools once more. _ "You will obey," _ the spectre says, cold and unforgiving. _ "Now, or in three days, when the hunger begins. I can wait." _

And with that said, she's gone – and with her all light. The strips of blue by the walls, the symbols on the floor and ceilings, it all goes out as if someone had blown out the greatest candle of the world – in an instant, they are plunged into complete darkness and silence.

At Ezio's side, Leonardo suddenly seems very loud, every breath and movement echoing. "Oh dear," he says shakily.

"Are you alright?" Ezio asks, reaching for him in the darkness. Leonardo sounds faint and frightened.

"I – this did not turn out how I imagined it would," Leonardo says with a feeble, nervous laugh. "Is this too a common occurrence on your adventures?"

"This part? No, not as such," Ezio says, tense, waiting. If the spectre is still there, he cannot see her. Even his gift cannot see anything but Leonardo's glow in the darkness. "Hold on, I will light a rush."

"I do hope you have several of them, I daresay we will need them," Leonardo says, and waits tensely as Ezio takes out his tinderbox, to coax a flame from the still kindled charcoal.

The light of a single thin rush is nowhere near enough to light the chamber around them – the space seems unfathomably lightless, now, after all the blue glow had disappeared.

"I am sorry, my friend," Ezio murmurs, turning to Leonardo and giving the rush to him. "I did not expect this."

"Nor I, and we both knew of an ill will behind the Apple," Leonardo murmurs, shivering as he tries to peer into the darkness. "Why was she so _ mad?_ Good god, I've never heard a woman so cold or frightening, and Lucrezia was a frequent visitor in my workshop!"

"She was?" Ezio asks, making a face.

"Whenever Cesare was there, and always full of impossible demands. A most unbearable woman," Leonardo agrees and shakes his head. "Why did you not do as she asked?"

"Because she didn't _ ask_," Ezio says, frowning at the darkness. "She demanded, and by the sound of it, it was an act of some significance. Now she is threatening to kill us to get her way – I cannot say it makes me keen on doing as I am told."

Leonardo arches his brows a little. "Very well," he says then and shifts his footing. "But now what we will do?"

Ezio has no idea. "Let's examine these walls," he says quietly. "Maybe there is… a weakness we can use."

Leonardo looks as dubious as he feels, but he nods. "Yes, of course," he says. "And the… Apple?"

Ezio casts a look towards it. "Leave it, for now. She might be able to – to control us, through it. Better leave it."

So they do.

* * *

There is no way out. The walls are as firm as something that was finished just last week, no sign of wear or tear anywhere. Even where there is water on the floor, there is no sign of damage – the whole place is perfectly intact, and built like the best fortress anyone could hope for. The material it is built from is like stone and like metal – and it neither chips nor dents when Ezio applies his weapons to it.

They spent hours trying to pry the door open, with no hope. "We would need a pulley or lever and perhaps ten men," Leonardo says miserably. "And even then I am not sure it would be enough."

Ezio hums in grim agreement and counts his rush candles. He doesn't have many of them, he usually only carries a night's worth, but because he hardly ever even uses them, he also rarely bothers to restock them. They have only a couple more hours of light left. After that, they'd have a day, two perhaps, before thirst would become unbearable. And then…

And neither of them told anyone where they were going – it would be hours, perhaps days, before anyone would know to miss them. And they would never know where to look for them. Perhaps his students could backtrack him to Leonardo's workshop, and from there to the Colosseum, but… would they, and if they did, would they do it on time?

Ezio bows his head. It's not something they can rely upon.

As much as he had enjoyed this adventure with Leonardo in the beginning, and as much as Ezio has enjoyed his company at his side… this is not how he wanted it all to end. He doesn't want Leonardo to _ die _ here – his own death he could stomach, it has been a very real possibility for decades now, but Leonardo deserves none of it.

Leonardo has years of creation left for him, still.

"Ezio?" Leonardo asks, wary.

"I am so sorry, my friend," Ezio murmurs. "For leading you here. Had I known…"

"I followed quite willingly, you might recall," Leonardo says, and touches his shoulder. "And we are not dead yet. There is still hope."

Yes. Giving into the spectre's command – and putting the accursed Apple on the pedestal, as she demanded. Why she demanded it and what it would lead to, Ezio doesn't know, but the idea of doing what she so terribly demanded turns his stomach.

"I cannot believe giving the Apple to her will do anything good," Ezio murmurs, scowling. "If this is what she does just to get her way, what will she do once she _ does _ get it? It cannot be good."

"No, likely not," Leonardo agrees quietly and then leans in, to whisper, in some hope of keeping what he's saying from the spectre, who must still be watching them. "But we could try to… use it ourselves. The Apple."

"At what cost? She almost took control of me when I touched it," Ezio murmurs back.

Leonardo hums in agreement and pulls back to look at him. "If I tried it," he says. "You could hold me back. You are stronger than me."

Ezio begins to shake his head. "You know the Apple's power – if you turned it against me – " he trails away, uneasy.

Leonardo sighs in agreement and looks at him steadily. "I cannot think of another way, Ezio," he admits. "None of our tools or means do anything here. There is only her and the Apple," he nods towards it, still lying on the floor where Ezio had left it. "I don't know if it is worth the risk, but… I cannot think of anything else we could try."

Ezio blows out a breath. It's a risk, but… he cannot think of anything else either.

"I think," he murmurs, as quietly as he can, praying she will not hear. "Desmond might be the key. The Apple recoiled when I made my demands, and that is what made the spectre angry. I think she might _ fear _ him."

Leonardo looks down and then nods. "Then we should – try and find him, reach for him. You should bind my legs," he says. "My hands also, to keep me restrained – if she takes control of me, it is better I cannot fight you."

Ezio grimaces, but agrees.

If the spectre is watching, if she sees what they are doing, there is no reaction from her. Ezio ties Leonardo with his robe, binding his wrists in front, careful not to make the binds too tight to damage his artisan hands, but making them secure enough that he cannot break free from them. Leonardo tests the knots closely and then nods. "I cannot break free," he says, satisfied.

"Are you certain about this?" Ezio asks quietly.

"Not at all," Leonardo says with a weak smile. "But I will do it regardless." Then he hesitates, shifting where he is sitting, bound and unable to move. "Um. I – suppose I need the Apple now. How…?"

Ezio considers him and the Apple, and then stands. Leaving the rush burning on the floor beside Leonardo, he walks over to the Apple – and then kicks it lightly, so that it rolls over to the bound up artist.

The sound of metal grinding it makes as it moves is eerie, and echoes hollowly in the chamber, unnaturally loud.

Leonardo catches the Apple under his knee, waiting until Ezio returns to his side. They share a look, full of hesitation and fear and nervous tension.

"If this turns out disastrous…" Leonardo says quietly, looking regretful. "Ezio, I – "

"I will knock it out of your hands," Ezio promises firmly, crouching in front of him. "And that will be it."

Leonardo draws a shuddering breath and after a moment he nods.

Then he reaches to take the Apple.

Ezio holds his breath, ready for anything, to back away, to attack, to knock the artefact away and pin Leonardo down, to rush at the damn spectre, _ anything _… but nothing happens.

Leonardo holds the Apple in both palms, frowning at it. There's a shimmer to it, shining through the seams on the golden plates, but no bursts of energy like Ezio gets, no blinding blasts of light. Tentatively Leonardo turns the Apple in his hands, glancing up at Ezio, and yet nothing happens.

"I – I am still in control of myself," Leonardo says.

Maybe the spectre knew Leonardo wouldn't be able to fight him, wouldn't be able to get the artefact to the pedestal, and so wasn't even trying to control him. "Can you – do anything with the Apple?" Ezio asks.

Leonardo frowns and concentrates, squinting at the thing. "It's – always hard," he murmurs. "Takes such concentration, and even then – it is as though I do not have the force to open a door, it barely cracks open and I can only catch a glimpse..."

"Desmond," Ezio says, urging him. "Try and see him, find him – call to him."

Leonardo's face takes on a pinched look of utmost concentration, but the Apple only shimmers faintly to him. "I cannot," he says, straining. "I cannot – it refuses. It does not answer to me – I can almost feel something, almost see, but…"

Ezio blows out a breath, frustrated, and bows his head.

"I'm sorry, I thought I could," Leonardo murmurs, also disappointed. "But I do not have your – control over it."

"No, my friend, it was a good idea," Ezio murmurs, patting his bound wrists consolingly, reaching for the rope binding Leonardo's legs to release him. "But I think it must –"

Between them, the Apple shifts, withdraws its shimmer like draining water away – and then it rushes forth in a tidal wave, filling their surroundings with light. Ezio looks up, alarmed, but it is not the chamber – the vault is still dark around them, its blue glow nowhere to be seen. This light is being emitted only by the Apple now.

"Ezio, look," Leonardo whispers, nodding.

There are shapes in the shimmer, four spectres, none as bright as the one that had imprisoned them. Two men, two women, none of them her, all dressed strangely, all vague and transparent. They are cast from the Apple like shadows, only they are made of light.

Surrounded by a haze of light and power, they walk over and then _ through _ Ezio and Leonardo on the floor, looking ahead – at the central platform. None of them seem to see them, or be in any way aware of them. Ghosts, or memories – more paintings of light.

There's one who moves ahead of the rest of them – a man in a white doublet and blue hose, the others are following him. As Ezio stands to watch, the man in white doublet moves towards the pedestal set on the pier of strange stone, right where the spectre had stood. He holds his hand over it, not touching it, as though feeling for heat the pedestal might be emitting.

Ezio draws a sharp breath. The man's sleeves are rolled up – and on his inner arm he has a _ hidden blade._

One of the women in the vision points at something Ezio and Leonardo can't see and then speaks, her voice vague, distant.

_ "Hey," _ she says, calling for the Assassin's attention, _ "Desmond," _ before continuing in a language Ezio doesn't know, but which sounds vaguely familiar. English perhaps?

The man in a white doublet turns, and for a moment it is as though he looks right at Ezio. Then he nods to the woman, turning away – moving out of sight, out of the Apple's light.

With a flicker, the hazy vision breaks and fades, leaving Ezio and Leonardo in near darkness again, blinking as their eyes adjust.

"Was that…?" Leonardo asks, quiet.

"I think so," Ezio says, narrowing his eyes. No reaction from their jailer – the chamber remains dark. "Can you bring him back?"

"My friend, I don't know how I brought them forward in the first place," Leonardo admits from the floor. "But I will certainly try."

Ezio nods, turning to look where the young man had been. Desmond – not a god, not an unfathomable being beyond his understanding, but a man. An Assassin.

The saviour of the world is an _ Assassin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feck Isu architecture.
> 
> Also can't add the relationship tag from phone, because apparently it's never been used before. Boo.  
it's Ezio/Desmond/Leonardo


	4. Chapter 4

Ezio watches, trying to contain his eagerness, as Leonardo struggles with the Apple, trying to bring forth another vision from it. It's obviously not easy for him – the Apple barely shimmers in his hands, and Leonardo's obvious frustration with it is not helping.

"You used the Apple before – how did it work then?" Ezio asks as the light wanes once more, trying to think of how to help his friend push through it.

"I spent hours with it, days, and gained terrible epiphanies, some without even realising it," Leonardo says and shakes his head. "Most of them I only understood later, when they began haunting my dreams. For me using the Apple is like I am looking at it through a curtain, and only little light filters through it."

For Ezio it was always more of a tidal wave, his touch a crack that broke the dam, sending all beyond it rushing forth. "There are levels of affinity," Ezio muses. "Or perhaps it is simply your mind. Maybe that is why she cannot control you, she cannot find purchase on your mind – it is too strong."

"What, compared to yours?" Leonardo asks and laughs, "Ezio, you are the most strong-willed man I know!"

"And you the most brilliant," Ezio says, fondly. "Whereas my mind is full of confusion and questions, yours comes up with answers, theories, explanations for things I don't even know to ask about. I expect there is no space up there for ancient gods."

Leonardo looks a little flustered by that, which at least makes some of the tension leave him. "Well," he says. "I might have a theory as to why this is not working. Or rather why it worked before and not now."

Ezio shifts forward. "Yes?'

"Last time, your hand was on my wrists," Leonardo says and looks down at the Apple. "I think it was your influence that made the visions appear."

Ezio blinks. He hasn't even realised. "Ah," he says and frowns. "But when I touched it…"

"Yes," Leonardo agrees, grim. "But perhaps if you put your hand close – but not in direct contact with the Apple itself – it might be enough."

Ezio considers the risks of it and nods. "Then by all means, let's try it that way," he says and moves closer, while Leonardo lifts the Apple in his bound hands, holding it out to him. They share a look, and then Ezio touches the back of Leonardo's hand, carefully not touching the Apple it is holding.

The reaction is immediate – Leonardo's eyebrows shoot up and the Apple glows brighter, like a fire that's being rekindled.

"Hmm," Leonardo hums, clearing his throat. "I can feel it, the power moving between you and the Apple. Do you feel it?"

"I feel something," Ezio agrees – though mostly he feels Leonardo's hand in between, the fine hairs on the back of it, the strength of his sinews. Artisan hands. "Now what, Maestro?"

"Think of what you want to see," Leonardo says, watching him. "Let us see if it was your influence alone or if we need to work together to make it happen."

"Two minds are better than one," Ezio muses and then concentrates on his questions, on the image they had seen. Desmond, who he is, _ where _ he is – whether he could help them now, whether they could reach him. The young _ Assassin_, who might be their only hope. Desmond, Desmond, Desmond…

The Apple shimmers and the light flickers… but no images come forward, not until Leonardo looks down consideringly and then squints his eyes in concentration, obviously turning his thoughts to the task at well. _ Then _ there is a reaction, and the light takes shape and images begin appearing once more, lighting up the dark chamber around them.

"I believe I am – sharing it. Conducting it?" Leonardo murmurs. "Your influence, I can guide it, direct it."

Ezio feels a burst of fondness at the wonder in his voice. "You have always been good at that, my friend," the Assassin agrees and looks up.

The spectres are back – but only three of them, the ones he could not begin to put names to. Desmond himself is not on the platform – no, he's beyond it, on the floor, climbing a set of translucent walls. The walls are odd, detached things, barely visible when he touches them and jumps over them and then gone again when he leaves them behind. Whatever he is actually doing, he is doing it rather well – he not only wears the weapons of an Assassin, but he moves like one, too.

Ezio's hand tightens on Leonardo's, pressing against the back of it.

"Another set of trials?" Leonardo whispers, also watching.

"So it would seem," Ezio agrees, following Desmond's image with his eyes as the other Assassin works his way around the entire chamber, balancing on those strange thin walls with ease. Like so, Desmond moves around the central platform without ever touching the floor, and then continues back onto the platform he started from, until he's only a few feet away from them.

He's young, Ezio sees. Young, with a hint of stubble on his chin and hair cut close to the scalp. He's also rather tall, taller than his companions, perhaps taller than Leonardo also. The lack of armour is curious – all he has on him is his strange set of clothes, the hidden blade, a black band on his right wrist, and a strange black item over one ear, almost completely covering it. It doesn't look like jewellery.

Ezio can't place his clothes, nor those of his companions. He'd never seen anyone wear such style, and in Venice and Rome one could see people from all over the world.

Then Desmond turns away and moves towards the central platform. Ezio hesitates, looking after him, before quickly releasing Leonardo's hand and tearing into the ropes he'd bound the man's legs with. "Come, we must take a closer look."

"What about the – the woman?" Leonardo asks, while beside them the other spectres move to follow Desmond. They are quickly growing fainter, with Ezio's second-hand connection to the Apple severed. "Is it safe?"

"We will take care – but this we must see," Ezio says and helps him up before putting his hand on Leonardo's on the Apple – strengthening the vision one more. "This seems important. Come on."

They move to follow the spectres up the stairs and to where Desmond stands. There, on the grand pedestal, waits another Apple of Eden… or the vision of one. The spectres are speaking, Desmond says something, Ezio cannot understand a word of it – but they all look at the Apple on the pedestal – for them, it's real and present and not a transparent illusion like it is for Ezio and Leonardo.

Ezio frowns and Leonardo lets out a thoughtful sound. "I wondered whether we were seeing into a place exactly like this but elsewhere – a chamber made to a same blueprint… but Ezio, I think they are really _ here_," Leonardo says. "In this very room. Only…"

Ezio nods slowly. "Only in another time," he agrees, slow. "Should we leave the Apple of Eden here, Desmond will be the one –"

He stops sharply as with a glance, with seemingly nothing more than a _ thought, _ Desmond activates the Apple in the vision. It sends forth a flare of light and fills the air with glowing golden symbols. They hang in the air, fluttering like restless butterflies, flashing and strange. They mean little to Ezio, but the people of the vision seem amazed, excited even, stepping forth to examine them. All but Desmond.

Desmond is looking at the Apple.

"Oh," Leonardo murmurs, also looking up. "Oh, I know this, something about this – there, that is the Eye of Horus, and that is the Boromean Rings –"

"Leonardo," Ezio says, quick, and in that moment Desmond takes the Apple of Eden between his hands.

The area around him becomes mired in hot orange and yellow light, which seizes not only Desmond in his place but also his companions, taking hold of them, stilling them in mid motion. Desmond speaks, strained, his words still unknown to Ezio – but the answering voice he does understand. And recognize.

_ "Your DNA communes with the Apple. You have activated it," _ the spectre that imprisoned them speaks, her voice no kinder now.

What follows is a terrible scene, and all Ezio and Leonardo can do is watch. Desmond struggles against the spectre's hold, but she forces him to move, forces him to act where he obviously does not wish to – making him turn and walk away from the pedestal.

_ "On the 72nd day before the moment of awakening," _ the spectre speaks. _ "You, birthed from our loins and the loins of our enemies. The end and the beginning, who we abhor and honour. The final journey commences!" _

And then she turns him on one of his companions, and though the young Assassin obviously struggles against it, she forces his hand. _ "There is one who would accompany you through the gate. She lies not within our sight. The cross darkens the horizon. The Path must be opened. You cannot escape your part in this. The scales shall be balanced!" _

"Oh, god," Leonardo murmurs when it becomes obvious what the spectre is making Desmond do. Ezio only stares, his hand gripping Leonardo's, as Desmond's hand is forced up, and the hidden blade snaps out, aimed at one of the women – obviously one he cares about.

_ "You know very little! We must guide you! Cease your struggle!" _

The most terrible thing is, the young woman doesn't even get the chance to react. She cannot move any more than the others can – she just stands there, frozen, as Desmond is forced to kill her against his will, so easily, so horribly.

For a moment, all is still.

Then Desmond falls, as does the blond woman, as do the others – the power releases them, and they all collapse like puppets with their strings detached, falling in heaps on the floor – Desmond unconscious, facing the woman he was forced to slay.

_ "It is done. The way lies all before you," _ the spectre speaks, satisfied. _ "Only she remains to be found. Awaken the sixth. Go. ALONE!" _

Ezio cannot say what he feels – nothing, perhaps, as he stares at the young Assassin on the floor, the Apple of Eden still in his hand and his friend dying before him. The other two, a woman with dark hair and man with lenses over his eyes, are rising quickly to their feet, shouting, going to the others – checking them over, checking the blond woman's neck. It is obvious there is no saving her – the blow had been a mortal one, Ezio could see that.

"Why?" Leonardo asks, sounding almost lost. "Is this why she wants you to put the Apple there – just for _ this_? Why? What a monstrous thing to do, to force another's hand like that…"

Ezio shakes his head. "There is… obviously much we don't know," he says, wondering what the relationship there was. Friends, companions – lovers? Lord… he cannot even imagine, being forced to do something like that to Leonardo, to Caterina, to anyone he cared about. "And if – if this is a scene from another time, from the future, then… We prevent it by never placing the Apple there."

Leonardo hesitates and then looks at him. "Yes," he says slowly. "But _ when _ does any of this even occur? A month from now, a year, a decade – hundred years? And if Desmond is in another time, then…"

They share a look.

If he is from another time, then Desmond likely is in no place to help them.

"Let's see what else we can learn," Ezio says, looking to the visions. "If by the Apple's power we have means to see into the future and into whatever is to come – then let's learn all we can. Perhaps then we might… see some knowledge that might help us."

Leonardo draws a breath. "Yes," he agrees. "It might be the only way."

Ezio looks back at him and then away. Leonardo looks tired and pale in the van, odd light of the visions. He looks about as good as Ezio feels, exhausted and increasingly hungry. Ezio wishes he could offer him a moment to rest, to sleep, but their time might be very limited – and the longer their imprisonment lasted, the weaker they would become.

The sooner they had answers, the more likely they could do something about them.

* * *

In the visions they see Desmond falling into a sickness that he cannot be woken from. The man with lenses over his eyes attempts to wake him, to poor effect – in the end, he and the dark-haired woman carry him out between them, one of his arms over each of them. The Apple stays in Desmond's hand, held by unconscious, unrelenting grip.

If there was any question about what they were seeing, they were put to rest by what follows. The vision follows the man, the woman and unconscious Desmond out of the chamber, and back to the descending platform, which takes them up and to Santa Maria in Aracoeli. It is dark, there, dark – and a little different. Outside the church's windows, there is an odd light.

Outside the church's doors, the city is _ alien. _

"Saint Maria," Leonardo whispers, his eyes wide, while he and Ezio stare, uncomprehending, at the visions the Apple paints for them.

The streets of Rome are changed, the very structure of them is different. They are dark now, smoother than Ezio knows them, painted with white lines. There are strange signs on every corner, circles and squares on metal poles, painted with vivid, even colour – and on the sides of the streets there are… Ezio has no idea _ what _ they are. Carriage is the closest thing that comes to his mind, for they have four wheels, it looks like… but the shape of them is odd, beyond odd. They have windows unlike anything Ezio has ever seen, clear and smooth and _ arched. _

Desmond is dragged to one of these strange carriages, hoisted to a chair waiting inside. The woman sits with him while the man goes to the – the front of the strange carriage and then, then it comes to life with a rumble.

"Oh," Leonardo says, shifting his shoulders - not in a shrug, but to relieve the strain of holding the Apple constantly. "They are some sort of automatons – _ machines,_ like my war machines. They must have engines – I saw, I thought something like them, I could imagine it – oh, but this –"

Ezio just shakes his head, bewildered and amazed. "I cannot imagine how Rome could've come to this," he says, shifting his footing a little. "How much time do you think has passed, for them?"

"I'd say centuries, at the very least. Look how clean everything is – oh, there, look!" Leonardo points, as the scene shifts around them, the illusion whirling as the horseless carriage moves, and the street moves beneath it. "There – oh, there it went. That must have been a sewer entrance – they have working sewers in Rome again!"

Ezio gives him a look, half amazed by his priorities. Is this really the time for such notions?

Leonardo ignores him, gasping instead at a glimpse of a building, like something of fantasy. It is taller than most church towers and very different in design. There are strange signs everywhere, strange vehicles – the carriage carrying Desmond passes one that's a veritable behemoth, the size of a building easily, which carries a house-sized _ box _ at its back.

"Oh, how far we come," Leonardo murmurs, full of wonder, as the scenes whirl by. Inside the carriage, the man with lenses on his eyes is talking to himself, holding a strange slab of black glass to his face, while in the back the dark haired woman is attaching _ strings _ to Desmond's bare arms, moving between him and glowing frames where images shift and change.

Desmond does not wake, not then, and not later, when the carriage halts and an older man steps in – he does not wake when they move him, when they set him on another red chair, when glowing sticks of odd power are placed around his head – when he's moved again.

In the vision, days pass, and Desmond remains unconscious.

Ezio watches him while Leonardo peers at the glimpses of all the strange devices of the future, and he despairs. Surely, if Desmond would not wake, he would die, starving to death in his sleep, and all the hopes and wishes Minerva placed on him would be for naught. And why?

Why like this, after all that happened – why will he not wake?

"I think he is dreaming," Leonardo says, after some time has passed, rubbing at his arm.

"What?" Ezio asks, running his free hand over his face and swallowing. He is feeling the shakiness of exhaustion again, a creeping cold – the thirst is starting to really set in too, it is getting harder to ignore now.

"Desmond. They do not act as though he's dying – not anymore," Leonardo says, nodding to the people around Desmond, watching him. "They keep an eye on him, but they do not fear or worry. I think they are - watching his dreams, somehow. Keeping track of them."

"Such a thing is possible in the future?"

"I couldn't begin to tell you what is or isn't, but considering all we have seen so far?" Leonardo shrugs and looks down at Desmond, sitting so very still in his red chair, his face lit by the glowing rods around his head. "We know how the Pieces of Eden might affect the mind – perhaps in the future, people figure out how it works, and utilise it for themselves."

Ezio hums, noncommittal. "None of this helps us," he says quietly and looks at the Apple between them. It is still in Leonardo's hand – and Leonardo's hand is in his, he is supporting it from below. His arm is beginning to tire. "Do you think we could look ahead, to see if… if he survives this illness?" As interesting as all of it is, it is wasting their limited time.

Leonardo looks up at him and then down at Desmond again. "Let us try," he says and shifts closer to Ezio, looking around. "Odd, that the spectre has not returned. For all her vehemence, she does not seem to care about what we learn here, what we are doing with the Apple."

"It hasn't been three days yet," Ezio says and looks around. "I'm not certain she is here, at any rate."

"No?" Leonardo asks, surprised.

"I can usually tell when there are people near, when I am being watched. It does not feel as though there is anyone else here but us," Ezio admits. "This place seems… lifeless in a way that I doubt even spirits can fake."

"Hm. I will have to take your word for it," Leonardo says. "Are you alright, my friend?"

Ezio sighs. "I'm thirsty and tired," he admits. "And I know it will get worse faster than I would like. I was not in the best of shapes to begin with."

"Then perhaps we should rest?" Leonardo murmurs. "You could try to sleep."

"No," Ezio shakes his head. "I don't imagine I can. Not here, not… not knowing the threat we have hanging above our heads. Should the Spectre return… I need to be on my guard. But I wouldn't say no to stretching my legs a little." 

Leonardo looks as though he wishes to argue, but knows better. So he sighs. "Alright," he says. "Sitting down might be called for, as well. We could sit on the stairs, there."

"Not a bad idea."

They take a break for a moment, Ezio stretching his arms and legs while Leonardo rubs at his back and takes a seat. There's not much they can do about the rest of the discomfort which is starting to make itself known, but at least they can save themselves the aching feet.

Ezio joins Leonardo by the stairs eventually, and when the artist lifts the Apple, Ezio sets his hand on his knee, palm up, for Leonardo to place his own - and the Apple - on top of it. Leonardo offers him an awkward smile. "Let's see if we can look ahead," he says. "And see what becomes of our young saviour."

Ezio lets out a huff, cradling Leonardo's hand in his. It's becoming a solitary bit of reality in all of this - Leonardo's hand. "I wish he was," he murmurs, looking at the dark chamber. "Our saviour. Doesn't look like that will be the case, does it?"

"We can still see what becomes of him," Leonardo says, and looks at the Apple.

They concentrate, and the light whirls and shifts around them. Now that they have been working at it for a while, it has become easier to bring the images forward. The scene changes and morphs, and images of incredible cities and strange automatons are left behind. Then there is a forest of pine trees and rocky hills, where another automaton drives down a winding road – Desmond sitting at its back, in his red chair.

There, at last, Desmond wakes. It must have been days, weeks perhaps – and yet the only change to him is that in the time he was sleeping, he grew something of a beard. He did not starve, did not die of thirst – he quite honestly looks none too worse for wear.

Ezio lets out a breath. He does not even know this man, the only thing he knows about him is his _ name _ and now how he looks and a single event that has happened to him… and yet he is relieved, deeply so, to see Desmond moving again, to see him well.

"Do you think their machines sustained him?" Ezio asks, while Desmond lifts his head and then his hand. There is light flickering under his skin, drawing symbols on it – and nearby, the Apple glows in answer.

"Must have," Leonardo murmurs. "In ordinary circumstances he would have surely died."

Desmond, the two that were with him in Santa Maria in Aracoeli, and the older man who was not have come to a hill – to a cave. As Ezio and Leonardo watch, Desmond leads the others in and to a door marked by roughly painted words and pictographs, the make of which looks like the designs of the Vaults. With the Apple, Desmond opens the way.

"Another Vault," Leonardo murmurs, as Desmond and his people go down.

"No," Ezio says as they come to a larger, grander chamber. "No, I think this is one of the Temples Minerva spoke of."

"And she said that they might be the key to saving the world?" Leonardo wonders.

"She told him he must find the other Temples," Ezio answers, looking around. "So I assume so. This looks much larger a structure than the one under Vatican…"

Desmond and his people move up in the cavernous place, and with them Ezio and Leonardo. As the spectres of the future examine the area, explore it, they watch. Desmond finds a glowing cube of sorts and sets it in stone, into a place clearly meant for it – and around them, the Temple lights up, blue lines drawing into walls and ceiling, and great blue door appearing to the other end of the grand cavern.

Beside Ezio, Leonardo wipes at his eyes and smothers a yawn. Ezio looks at him and then at the grand visage around them, as Desmond moves towards the great glowing door, peering through it at what's on the other side. It's all very magnificent and exciting... but they are growing tired.

And none of this helps them. None of this offers a key to getting out of here.

"If you want to rest…" Ezio murmurs, touching Leonardo's elbow offering support. The hand holding the Apple is beginning to sag.

"If you need no rest, then I can push through as well," Leonardo says determinedly and offers him a smile. "Never mind me, Ezio. Let's see this to its conclusion."

"I have a feeling it might take a while," Ezio comments, looking at Desmond who is – swaying, now. "And I think we need a little break from all the – "

Desmond turns, his eyes stray strangely – and then he collapses onto the floor in a dead faint.

Leonardo blinks at the young Assassin lying on the floor of the vision, shimmering sightly, while Ezio lets out a faintly incredulous noise. Good lord, _ again_?

"I fear his constitution might not be the best," Leonardo comments slowly.

"No," Ezio answers and runs a hand over his face. "No, it doesn't seem to be, does it?"


	5. Chapter 5

Ezio rests fitfully, woken periodically by the echoing silence and the muffled whispers of the Apple, murmuring things into his restless dreams. He can't make them out, they blur like paint mixed haphazardly on a canvas – there's some sense there, but he sees only one rough section and not the whole picture. Mostly the murmurs seem urgent, and leave him with a sense of alarm.

The thirst and hunger are ever present now – he feels them even in his sleep and they seem worse every time he wakes. 

Leonardo sleeps better, but only barely – his dreams are obviously restless as well, but he's less likely to wake from them, and so he stays asleep, enduring whatever horrors the Apple kindles in his mind. He doesn't have an Assassin's wariness to disturbances, which forces Ezio awake at the slightest sound or change.

Ezio sighs wearily and rubs at his eyes, trying to erase their gritty dryness. The whole thing only makes him more tired, and on top of the gnawing of his guts he's beginning to ache all over, feeling old injuries and past mishaps resurfacing and making themselves known again. He needs food, a good bath, and perhaps a full day of uninterrupted rest, and with each passing moment it seems less and less likely.

It makes him think of prisoners, tortured with starvation and not afforded the right to rest, how quick they break at the end – if they don't kill themselves first. The golden spectre's methods of persuading them to do as she wants are truly insidious.

Quietly, so as not to wake Leonardo, Ezio stands up and then has to stop and lean on his knees – he's dreadfully dizzy, all of a sudden, the floor swaying under him wildly. He feels almost drunk with it. It passes, but not quickly, and he's left with a feeling of vertigo and unsteadiness.

Slowly Ezio moves further away, trying to ease the kinks and aches of his body with stretches. He should exercise, perform a few sword forms, they would liven up his weary limbs as well as warm him up… but the very idea seems exhausting. He'd likely keel over, with how dizzy he feels.

He walks around the lowest floor instead, slowly, stretching his arms as he goes and rubbing at his neck. 

Of all the ways he imagined he'd die, this was not it. Quick death from a blade or blow. Impact with the ground from an ill-judged jump. A sweet death in bed, perhaps? 

Not a slow withering, while watching his dearest friend succumb to the same.

He would have to give in, before the end. He would put the Apple on the pedestal. Not yet, his pride alone would stop him now – but his pride is not worth Leonardo's pain, nor his life. Ezio would bend and then, God willing, the spectre would let them go.

Ezio walks in loose circles until his aches are somewhat eased and replaced by new ones and then he returns to Leonardo. The artist is coming to as well. The room is dark around them, pitch black – Ezio can only see anything with his Gift, and Leonardo wouldn't see at all.

"Ezio?" Leonardo calls, nervous, as he sits.

"I'm here, my friend," Ezio says soothingly and goes to him. "How are you feeling?"

Leonardo sighs and runs his hands over his face and through his hair. "I admit, I have felt better. Sleeping on the floor was easier when I was younger."

"Yes, many things were," Ezio agrees. Even bundling their clothes into cushions had not made the metal floor any softer – or warmer, for that matter. "Should I light a rush?"

"How many do have left?" Leonardo asks quietly.

"Three," Ezio says. The use of the Apple had saved them from having to use them, but they are still dwindling.

Leonardo hesitates and then sighs. "Please."

Ezio kneels beside him and takes out his tinderbox. "Living in Rome has made me soft," he murmurs bitterly. "I used to carry food and water with me, but here it had not been necessary, so I dropped the habit."

"Who expects to get trapped and starved in the middle of such a populous city?" Leonardo asks. "You reconstructed the aqueducts so that people wouldn't go thirsty – I think one can forgive you your lapses of preparedness."

Ezio shakes his head and blows into the tinder to coax a flame. The light of the rush candle seems even smaller than before – the darkness around them impenetrable.

For a while they sit in the candle's light, not saying anything. Leonardo looks wan and exhausted, his face pale, the shadows under his eyes almost blue. Even the normally so colourful freckles on his face and hands look miserable.

"I wonder if Salaì has even noticed I am missing," Leonardo murmurs.

"Your student? I'm sure he worries," Ezio says quietly. "It has been two days now."

Leonardo scoffs, amused. "When the Borgia first took me, he took my absences not as a reason for concern, but as an excuse to skip work and spend my money in gambling," he says almost nostalgically and shakes his head. "And he was properly guilty for it later, of course, very concerned. But I wouldn't call him the most attentive."

Ezio casts him a look. Leonardo's students are rather variable in nature, but from what he has seen of them over the years they tend to be of a very independent, willful sort. The artist has no interest in surrounding himself with sycophantic apprentices and assistants, preferring more interesting, strong personalities. It's something Ezio, as the Mentor of Assassins, can appreciate. Though he can't deny he enjoys the respect he's given, he also does not favour students who flatter and fawn. Independence is to be admired… but Leonardo's students sometimes seem to take it to the extreme. And the grief they give to their master seems more than a little underserved.

Seeing his expression, Leonardo laughs, shaking his head. "I adore him, but he's a little devil," he says, embarrassed, and stands up with a stretch – too fast. "Oh, god," he groans as the dizziness strikes him too. "Oh, my _head…_"

Ezio presses his lips together sympathetically and says nothing. There's nothing he can really say to help.

Leonardo breathes slowly in and out until he feels steadier. Then, swallowing dryly, he asks, "Should we – continue?"

"Stretch your limbs out first," Ezio says, listening to his joints crack. "We're not in that much of a hurry."

"Mm. Do you mind if I take the light?" Leonardo asks.

"Go ahead."

Ezio goes to sit by the stairs while Leonardo takes a walk – and relieves himself – on the other side of the vast chamber. Idly Ezio wonders about his own students, what they must be doing. They would look for him eventually – there would be a search for by the time Machiavelli found out about his absence at the latest. The Mentor of the Brotherhood cannot just disappear. It makes him sad that no such care would be given to Leonardo, and not nearly with the same haste. His clients would enquire after him, no doubt, but that thought only makes Ezio sadder. 

Leonardo is surrounded by people who know him not at all, really, for the artist's secrets run deep and he keeps them well. 

Leonardo returns, looking slightly less uncomfortable, setting the rush on the stairs. "It's a pity, this situation. In normal circumstances I would quite enjoy examining this chamber."

"I can imagine it," Ezio muses and sighs, not quite able to force enthusiasm for Leonardo's interest in sciences anymore. "Shall we continue?"

Leonardo nods and picks the Apple where they left it, taking it out of its satchel once more while Ezio puts the rush out..

* * *

First thing they see is Desmond, arguing with one of his companions – the older man who had joined them after the death of the blond woman. There is shouting and heated exchange of words, and as Ezio and Leonardo try to puzzle through what is being said, the older man hits the young Assassin.

"... Ah," Leonardo says in tone of realisation.

"What?" Ezio asks, nod taking his eyes from the scene, wondering why Desmond didn't strike back – he looks stunned, so perhaps he's too surprised to?

"I… believe that's his father," Leonardo says and clears his throat. "They do have similar facial features," he adds. "Though Desmond obviously got his colouring from his mother, in his facial features he takes after this man."

Ezio frowns, considering the older man as the third man in the group separated the two, paint Desmond and the older man apart and distracting them with words. He can see the resemblance – and now that he's looking for it, he can see the relationship too, in the shared looks, in the way they angle their bodies and gesticulate.

It's obviously not an easy relationship… and Leonardo recognized it by the way a father struck a son.

"Leonardo," Ezio says quietly, realising that in all their years of knowing each other, he had not heard Leonardo talk of his family _once_. "How –" he begins and abruptly stops, knowing he could never ask such a thing.

"One of my students had a difficult father," Leonardo says as a way of explanation, not looking at him.

Ezio clears his throat and leaves it at that. "I wonder what they are arguing about…"

"Whatever it is, Desmond doesn't look happy."

He doesn't. He's still frowning when he returns to his chair and lays down to sleep, no more than half an hour after waking up.

They move past Desmond's days of sleeping, for there are many of them. The young Assassin spends days in slumber, attended by the others with their glowing machines, and though it's interesting for how strange it all seems, it tells Ezio and Leonardo very little. So they search for the days when Desmond is active instead.

"Perhaps his role in Minerva's plan is to know and learn and to use their devices," Leonardo muses. "He isn't meant for fighting."

"Maybe," Ezio agrees, and then Desmond wakes. "These people wear few weapons and no armour. Perhaps the Hidden Blade is symbolic, in his time."

Leonardo gives him a sympathetic look. "Would it be so terrible, if there was no more call for assassinations?"

"... No. No it wouldn't be terrible at all," Ezio murmurs.

That is, of course, when Desmond sets out on a mission. They take their horseless carriage and leave the Temple cave, riding out at speed and to a city Ezio and Leonardo had only glimpsed and now see in full.

It is like an image of a child's fantasy – a great city of glass towers that reach the sky. Even the shortest of them puts the tallest towers Ezio has climbed to shame, and the tallest defy all sense and logic.

"Leonardo, how can they build so tall?" Ezio asks amazement. He'd taken part in enough construction projects to know that building of such height should put too much weight on the foundations – surely the lowest floors should crumble? And these buildings don't even seem to be built from stone, not all of them – with that many windows, and all of them so big…

"Their construction materials must be more advanced," Leonardo says thoughtfully. "Sturdier than what we have the means to produce – and likely lighter also. I wonder how they look inside, how they distribute the weight…"

They end up seeing exactly how. While his team of attendants and assistants stays behind in the vehicle, Desmond sets out alone, his hood pulled up as he makes his way to one of these tall behemoths of buildings – a skeletal, unfinished frame of one. Leonardo is_ beside_ himself with what they see.

"Oh, metal beams! Can you imagine the sort of metallurgy people in these times have, to make such large things!" he breathes. "And, oh, _oh,_ I see now! There, they have metal beams and rods and – yes, they must be pouring concrete right over these beams so that they will enforce the concrete from the inside, that is how they can build so tall!"

"That sounds hideously expensive," Ezio comments, distracted by Desmond, moving about the construction site. "Embedding metal in concrete."

"Obviously in the future people are much wealthier," Leonardo says, voice full of wonder. "And have greater means – look at the lights, at all these machines!"

Desmond is climbing the building, making jumps and moves which might have made Ezio pause. There is no sign of weakness now, no hesitation, no stalling – despite having done nothing but lie and sleep for what seems like weeks in his time, Desmond seems to have no difficulty in navigating the tricky area.

While Leonardo obviously tries to memorise all he sees, Ezio folds his arms, watching Desmond, trying to gauge his skill level. He'd good at navigating difficult terrain, better than some of the men and women Ezio had taught himself, but does it translate to combat skills?

Then the image begins to fade, and Ezio realised that without a thought he'd released Leonardo's hand – and thusly severed the connection to the Apple. "Sorry," he murmurs and places his hand on Leonardo's again where it is resting on top of the Apple. Leonardo's hand is warm – too warm.

Leonardo hums, glancing at him and then away again, coughing. Ezio looks at him, concerned.

"My throat is getting dry," Leonardo admits. "It's nothing I cannot bear."

Then, the vision continues and Desmond slides through a gap in a wall and Ezio too is distracted by the environment around him – for Desmond comes outside, and the city expands before him, magnificent and fantastic – with a drop below his feet like that from a mountain top, clearly lethal should be fall.

Ezio finds himself holding his breath as the young Assassin navigates around the building, making terrible leaps on swinging beams over hundreds of feet of _nothing._ Even Leonardo is quiet, staring with wide eyes.

"That's – quite daring," Leonardo says after a while of watching Desmond climb higher and higher. "But where on Earth is he going?"

To the very highest point of the building, it seems, high above it, climbing on a strange large structure of metal poles and cables. The city spreads out before him, windows lit in thousands of lights against the midnight darkness, all of it like a strange dream. It is… magnificent.

And then Desmond jumps.

Ezio grips Leonardo's hand harder without meaning to, and Leonardo lets out a gasp. The leap is as graceful as any Leap of Faith Ezio has ever seen, but at a height like this…!

Then Desmond tugs at the straps of the bag on his back, and fabric billows out of it, shooting behind him and then spreading out in a snap to form a large, curved sheet, a sail –

"A parachute!" Leonardo breathes and almost jumps up. "Oh, look at that design! So sleek – and it fits in such a small space –!"

Ignoring Leonardo's excited rambling, Ezio leans in and watches closely how Desmond steers his way in the air and down and to another building, landing on top of it – this place is his actual destination, he only needed to get high enough to get to it easily. Much like Ezio had once done in Venice, with the aid of Leonardo's flying machine.

In the second building, Desmond breaks into a sparsely decorated room to steal a glowing cube from there – identical to the one he found in the cave. That, it seems, is his goal here – to add to the Temple's power. It is only there that he is met with opposition, and even that is brief – a man with a weapon, a firearm perhaps, who makes the mistake of coming closer and giving Desmond the opportunity to knock him down. 

It's not enough to give Ezio any sort of feel of Desmond's capabilities, but he seems able to fight at least and keep calm in difficult situations.

"All of this is so exciting," Leonardo murmurs as the vision shifts and looks at him. "The future seems amazing."

"Yes," Ezio sighs and shakes his head. He's glad that Leonardo is enjoying at least _some_ of this – but Ezio's head hurts, and he feels worse by the moment. He'd never gotten to this point before, but he can feel it – the dizziness is constant now. "It is certainly something, but it will not help us escape."

Leonardo is quiet for a moment. "Then perhaps we should st… " he starts to say and then stops as the vision moves back to the Temple, where Desmond goes to put the cube into its place, in the Temple's confusing, broken up rooms.

Then there she is, the golden spectre that had imprisoned them. _"In the beginning,"_ she says to Desmond, _"When we thought we could be saved, we sought to face the sun's wrath and contain it…"_

Ezio sighs, sharing a look with Leonardo. Then they settle in, to listen.

* * *

It's getting harder and harder to concentrate.

Desmond sleeps, he goes on missions to acquire more cubes for the Temple, where he will then hear stories from the spectre, Juno – Ezio isn't sure when he learns her name, perhaps Desmond says it, later he can't quite recall. At some point he simply knows it and knows that Desmond is very suspicious of her, does not much care for her. He listens to her stories anyway.

For Ezio they begin blurring together like discussions heard in a tavern, one overlapping the other. Six means to save the world which failed, Juno explains them all with a mix of grandiosity and desperation and anger. Pillars to contain the fire, shields to hold it back, to make humans _wish it away_… Ezio losses track of them, knowing he should be paying close attention and unable to. Instead his thoughts wander.

Desmond has a scar on his lips, much like his own – a paler line that cuts through the side of the upper and lower lip. Do his lovers like to run their thumb over it, like Ezio's do? Caterina used to do it after lovemaking, telling him, _"It makes you look like a rogue. Not that you need much help on that score."_

Leonardo has scars on the back of his hand – work injuries, scrapes and little burn marks, small things. Ezio runs his thumb over them and wonders why his palm isn't sweaty – he feels as though it should be. Leonardo's hand is warm.

Ezio feels dry and hot.

"I wonder how long they worked at it," Leonardo murmurs, bringing Ezio's attention away from the scars. "Juno's people, they tried so many things."

"Mm," Ezio answers – the mere hum hurts his throat, it's so dry now. His tongue feeling clumsy as he swallows to try to ease the dryness, but it barely helps. "Years, it seems," he says roughly.

"And still they failed," Leonardo says and shakes his head. "And with all the power they had too, all that knowledge…"

Ezio shakes his head, rubbing at his neck, and Leonardo looks at him, concerned. "Do you need a break, my friend?" Leonardo asks. "We could rest."

Ezio sighs. "No," he says. "Let's finish it – I think we are nearing the end now." And after… after he meant to do something. Yes, the Apple, he meant to put the Apple on the pedestal – if nothing else came up, if no solution presented itself in Desmond's life, he would give in, give up and subject himself to Juno's will, ill though it was.

Lord, he is so tired.

Leonardo looks at him with concern and then looks down at their hands. Ezio is drawing lines on his knuckles, counting scars – he cannot bring himself to stop. The artist looks away again, blinking rapidly and drawing a breath. Ezio looks up too – in the vision Desmond is sleeping, _again._

"Lucky bastard," Ezio comments with a weak attempt for a laugh. "Almost all he does is sleep."

"I don't think that's it, Ezio," Leonardo says, shaking his head. "I don't think what he does is really sleeping. Haven't you noticed? He always wakes up confused and never looks fully rested. I think it wears on him, somehow, whatever it is they do. More so the longer it goes on."

Yes, Ezio can see it. Desmond hides it from his friends, but the vision follows him everywhere – even behind the corners, where he puts his head in his hands and shakes. Still, Ezio is jealous – a little. Desmond still seems to be in a better shape than they are.

Desmondis woken now by the man with glasses over his eyes – Shaun, Ezio thinks, they call him. The words still escape him, but there's concern and worry, and then Desmond jumps into action. His father, whose name Ezio cannot recall having been mentioned, is not there. Judging by the context, something happened to him.

Listless, Ezio stares at the carnage that follows. Desmond takes a building head on, obviously held by an enemy of some sort – there are people with weapons in his way, a voice in the air, male and just as incomprehensible to Ezio and Leonardo as the rest. It sounds malicious and patronising,

It is only by the time a fifth man has fallen to Desmond's blades that Ezio actually realises that at last he's seeing Desmond at his peak – an Assassin at work.

Slowly Ezio blinks and then lifts his head, concentrating on what he's seeing, looking at it not through the eyes of a tired man about to die but through the eyes of the Mentor of the Brotherhood. He looks at the way Desmond moves, the way he wields his knife and hidden blade – how he strips his opponents of their firearms to use against them, how he trips his opponents, throws them over railings, and how easily and smoothly he kills his way through the building.

"He's good," Ezio says, his voice low. "He's very good." There's not a wasted movement to be seen – Desmond moves not at all like a man who sleeps his days away, but one who has spent years rigorously training. Which, considering that they have not seen any evidence of training…

"If one likes that sort of thing, I suppose," Leonardo says, wincing, as Desmond trips a man to the floor and puts a knife to his chest. "But I expect this is – very skilled."

Desmond makes his way up the building, climbing half of the way inside a strange shaft, and eventually does find his father – held hostage by a man in white. Ezio can't understand what the man is demanding, but he's holding out his hand – and in answer, Desmond takes out the Apple of Eden, and uses it to make the men in the room kill each other, bar his father, whom he releases from his binds with a smile and an embrace.

Ezio hums, blinking slowly. Well now, that was… something. "By my reckoning they have all the sources of power for the Temple they need, now," he comments.

"Yes, but they are still looking for the Key," Leonardo says, frowning a little.

Ezio frowns, but – yes, Juno had mentioned something to that effect, at some point. He'd forgotten. "Let's view that, then, shall we?" he asks and presses his hand more fully over Leonardo's on the Apple.

Leonardo swallows dryly and nods – and the vision shifts accordingly.

The Key turns out to be a circular piece of green stone – it is retrieved from a grave, to which Desmond somehow knows the way. Then the glowing wall in the Grand Temple, the great impenetrable door Shaun has been studying and Desmond had been collecting power sources for, finally is opened. Behind it await the means to save the world.

And maybe them, too.


	6. Chapter 6

****When Ezio had came head to head with what he later on had to think of as his _destiny_, it was already done and largely over with, it seemed. What happened in the Vault under the Vatican where Minerva had spoken to him, and through him to Desmond, had left him… hollow. Like a messenger boy, still running errands for his father on the streets of Florence, all he needed to do in life was to deliver a message that wasn't for him, which he wasn't meant to understand. And then it was done.

It had left him feeling deeply unsettled, for the days it took to return to Monteriggioni. Not let down or betrayed, for he never had any expectations in the first place, but unsettled nonetheless. Greatness was never a thing he truly wanted for himself, not on a great historic level, but to be so quickly brushed aside from what he perceived to be a deeply historic thing, it was… it was unsettling. It felt as though all he had done, all he would ever do, amounted to so little. To being in the right place at the right time, and beyond that, nothing much mattered.

Later, after Monteriggioni was lost and he'd settled not only in Rome, but in his position as the Mentor, he saw it in a different light. Though he could not deny the bitter feeling of being somehow left behind, he appreciated the freedom it gave him. He had no more to worry about destiny, he thought, he had played his part. As it is often, to be in the right place at the right time is the greatest thing you could ask of a man, and the greatest thing they can give.

He found himself content with his lot in life. Not with the losses, never that, but what he had he accepted, and he was grateful for what remained. It might not be gods or destiny that gave him these things, neither the joys nor the sorrows, for those who seem to be inconsequential to Destiny… but he was grateful nonetheless. He was even content.

Now he's not so sure of any of it.

Ezio and Leonardo stand to see better, as Desmond approaches the glowing pedestal in this last vision – and judging by Leonardo's expression, he too can feel it be the last.

"What do you think will happen?" Leonardo asks worriedly.

Ezio shakes his head. "Let's see," he says, and they move to watch.

Juno appears on the other side of the pedestal with its glowing orb with a fractured surface. She addresses Desmond, saying, _"Here... at last. You know our story now. Of how we tried. Of how we failed. All our hopes extinguished. Save one. Your touch, a spark. A spark to save the world."_

And then there is Minerva, before Desmond can even answer. _"Wait! Do not touch the pedestal! You must not free her!"_

Ezio is too tired and too weary to be shocked by the revelation that Minerva and Juno are at odds and that Desmond has been deceived, somehow. He's too tired to make sense of it. The scene moves in front of him, inexorable and strange, and he has no energy left to feel much about it, only a vague sense of _disappointment_. Even here, there are no answers.

Minerva and someone named Tinia had sought to save the world, Juno had sought to conquer it. Desmond was their method of saving, Minerva had reached for him through time to guide him, and Juno had then manipulated him. Ezio wishes he could feel shocked or even frustrated. All he feels is _sorry_.

"They could reach through time," Leonardo murmurs thoughtfully, stroking his beard with his free hand "They reached for you, and somehow through you, to Desmond, to get him here. And now Minerva says it is wrong…"

That they have wasted time, Assassins and Templars, by fighting over what remained of the Ones Who Came Before, their tools and devices, their Staves and Apples. Ezio runs a hand over his face and feels some mixture of frustration and helpless bitterness. What else were they supposed to do then, let Templars have their way, kill whomever they chose, conquer whomever they wished?

What were they supposed to do, knowing so little, being persuaded this way and that by mysterious whispers? With the Apple's corrupting influence and the cryptic nonsense Minerva and Juno spouted, how were they supposed to know better?

_"But he will not understand,"_ Minerva says, turning to Desmond. _"It is complicated, it is…"_

How are they supposed to understand anything, when all they are told are mysteries and not the truth? Ezio doesn't have Leonardo's expertise, or Desmond's obvious understanding over such matters, but even he can understand the threat of celestial fire, even he knows to be afraid of it – if all knew as did they, would they not work to preserve the world, too? Why would they not understand, if such things were simply _explained_ to them?

Ezio bows is head as Juno paints the picture of a world destroyed for Desmond, of fire scorching the earth and then life returning – and corrupting, in its ignorance. It is tiring, all of it. Desmond, he thinks, seems tired with it too, he looks weary – but determined. To save the world is to release Juno, with her malicious ways, upon it. To leave it to burn is to kill millions.

Ezio does not envy Desmond the choice – though he wishes he could understand what he says, what it is he chooses. All he can understand is Minerva's answer to it, _"If you free her, you'll be destroyed."_

To which Juno adds, _"It will happen in an instant. There will be no pain."_

Desmond doesn't even look surprised by this. He looks as though he was expecting it.

Ezio is sick to his stomach with all of it.

"Oh," Leonardo murmurs sadly. "Oh, that is so sad, he's so young. What a terrible choice to make…"

Ezio looks at him and then the Apple between them, held by Leonardo's hand which is held by his. It is sagging a little, Leonardo's hand feels heavier – as though he does not wish to hold it up any longer. Not that Ezio can blame him – the visions have not been happy ones, and to come to this unhappy conclusion…

Desmond had obviously made his choice. Juno smiles, terribly satisfied, and steps back. Minerva looks less happy with it, but she can see her arguments will not persuade him.

_"Then the consequences of this mistake are yours to live – and die – with,"_ she says and steps back – and then she looks at him. Not at Desmond.

She is looking at Ezio and her eyes widen.

Ezio lifts his head slowly, and meets her gaze with a glare. The anger and frustration welling up inside him is giving him some energy, it's making the pounding of his head easier to ignore – and by god, he thinks he hates her. Certainly he hates Juno like he has hated no other but the Pazzi, when he was young and such passion came easily. He _loathes_ all of this.

Minerva's lips press together, briefly, a grim expression of understanding – and then she is gone. It is not much in the way of guidance, but Ezio knows now that _she_ knows they are watching – and the fact that she knows _means_ something.

"Ezio," Leonardo says quickly, also realising something, looking at him. "We are looking through time – like Minerva is. And from what I could tell, it is no small thing – I think we are doing it by her –"

"I care not," Ezio says, low. "Whatever she plans or wants, I care not. I am tired of all of this."

"But surely we must –" Leonardo starts and then throws a helpless look towards Desmond, who is now talking to his companions, hugging them – sending them away. "He is going to _die,_ Ezio."

Ezio breathes in and out, and for a moment, a terrible white hot moment of _knowledge_, he knows how all of this works, how they can see Desmond and how Desmond had once seen them. He understands the tangled nature of fates, of destinies, of how time flows and spirals, how the People Who Came Before entangled its webs and began to traverse them.

The Apple is shimmering in Leonardo's hand, and Leonardo's mind is a prism, concentrating beams of knowledge into a single solitary point of perfect clarity, focusing it for Ezio, and Ezio _understands_.

He grips Leonardo's hand tighter and tugs him along, stepping closer – and as Desmond turns to the glowing Eye that is supposed to save the world, Ezio reaches too – together, they lay their hands upon it.

* * *

The Vault fades. So does the Grand Temple. There is no space, no air, no floor under their feet, there is nothing but darkness, a small point of light within the Eye and within the Apple – and there is Ezio, and Leonardo... and Desmond, who is staring at them with wide eyes.

"Ezio," the young man says, confused, his hand hovering a hair's width from the Eye's surface. "Leonardo –" and then he says something Ezio can't understand.

"Desmond," Ezio answers, his left hand similarly a breath away from touching the Eye, moving the right one holding Leonardo's to pull the confused, unresisting artist forward. "I do not know how much time we have, I do not know how this works. We must make this brief."

"We are watching you from the past," Leonardo says quickly, catching on. "Juno trapped us within her Vault – the Apple is showing us visions."

"What –" Desmond asks, haltingly, in Italian. "But – that didn't happen, I would know if it happened."

"Minerva might have caused it, somehow," Ezio says, grim and angry. "She is changing the past on account of Juno. I think Minerva wishes us to change your future to stop her."

"I don't…" Desmond says, shaking his head and then stalling, thinking quickly, feverishly. "Fuck, I don't understand."

"What is the year?" Leonardo asks, leaning closer. "Desmond, what year is it for you – how far in the future from us are you?"

Desmond blinks and looks up. "It's – it's two thousand and twelve," he says. "A little over five hundred years."

Leonardo lets out a little huff of incredulous amazement. "Then we will have five hundred years to change the future," he says urgently. "Make sure the world is saved and Juno will not have her way – five hundred years to save you."

The look Desmond gives him is full of fondness – and sorrow. "It's too late," he says with a smile. "I have to do this."

"No," Ezio says grimly. "No, you don't."

"Would you rather I let billions of people die?" Desmond asks, shaking his head. "You'd make the same choice, Ezio."

"No," Ezio says, and leans forward, sliding his hand over the surface of the Eye and towards Desmond. "Maybe. But there is another way now."

There is some power in him now, he knows it. Something about him being the Prophet makes him powerful. Leonardo can use it, manipulate it – can take this power and pull visions from it. Ezio is almost figuring out how to do the same, to take spark of Leonardo's mind and use it for understanding. The conclusion is natural, though he only barely comprehends it – he is the heat Leonardo's hammer uses to shape metal with, and Desmond, the Eye, they are the metal.

There are no words for what it feels like, to touch Desmond's hand, to make the connection. Ezio's body and mind both seize, and he can feel the flow through him, from Leonardo and the Apple, from Desmond and the Eye. The Eye of Providence, he thinks, and the Apple of Eden, the tools of Creation, and Change, and History – he can feel them, almost understand them, but he is only the messenger between them, a conduit, completing a – circuit.

Ezio thinks he can hear someone shouting. It might be him.

He can feel Desmond, placing his other hand over his, pressing Ezio's hand between his own. Leonardo is doing the same by the Apple, and Ezio is caught between them, held and incapable of pulling away, a current running through him. Brilliance and understanding and knowledge, like lightning, flows back and forth.

Somewhere between them, they know what to do.

* * *

"NO!" Juno shouts. "No, no, NO, this is not the way, you cannot do this!"

"It is already done," Minerva answers, vindictive. "Did you think that just because you have experienced history and I've seen it, it is already fixed? Did you think you could control their fates, again?"

* * *

When Ezio can see again, the vision is over – it is pitch black and he is trembling all over, uncontrollably. His hands are empty, and he cannot concentrate enough to see, but he can sense he isn't alone. He can hear breathing.

Then he can hear someone, collapsing on the floor, not letting out a sound.

"Ezio?" Leonardo calls, alarmed. His voice does not come from the floor, however – he's standing beside Ezio.

"I'm here," Ezio says shakily, searching for him with trembling hands until he catches hold of a sleeve. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I think so," Leonardo says, though he doesn't sound like it. "I – I don't have the Apple anymore, I think I dropped it. Ezio, can you light a rush – I cannot see."

"Neither can I," Ezio answers and with shaking hands searches for his tinder box. The rush breaks in twain as he tries to light it, and so he lights both pieces of it, holding one of them to Leonardo. Together, half fearful, they look.

And there is Desmond, lying on his side in his strange clothes from the future, his right hand marked with fractal burn that runs from the palm up the arm, branching like a tree. Scar of a lightning strike, Ezio thinks – he'd once seen a woman with one.

Leonardo kneels by the young man, touching his hand and then his neck – like they had seen Shaun and Rebecca do to Desmond, in this very Vault, in five hundred years time. "His heart is beating," Leonardo says, with deep relief. "He is alive."

Ezio exhales, kneeling down also, still shaking. It's like there's lightning still trapped inside of him, with no place to go, so it keeps bouncing inside, from one fingertip down to his toes and up to his other hand, endlessly flashing. He feels hot and cold and _exhausted_. "I," he says, which is as far as he gets. He has no idea what to say.

He has only half of an idea of what just happened, or _why_ it happened.

So he concentrates on what he _does_ know. "We are still trapped," he says, looking towards the door – still shut. The Vault is still without power. Does Juno here know what happened? Is she aware that her plans had been thwarted? Is placing the Apple on the pedestal _still_ the only way out, despite all that just occurred?

Leonardo looks up, sees the door, and makes a dismayed face. Then he turns to Desmond and begins taking off his own cape, to make it a cushion to place under Desmond's head. "What will we do?"

"Hm…" Ezio says and shakes his head. "Let's wake him up."

"After what he just went through?" Leonardo asks, alarmed.

"We have no way to get out of here, Leonardo, but he knows more about Those That Came Before than we do," Ezio points out. "And he has used the Apple, seemingly with no adverse effects to his mind – maybe he knows something about this Vault, too, which we do not."

Leonardo makes a face and sighs. "Alright – how are we going to wake him, then? I don't suppose you have any smelling salts in those pouches of yours?"

"No, but I do have other things, one of them might do," Ezio says, reaching for his medicine pouch and detaching it from his belt to go through it. Leonardo leans in and then picks up Ezio's bottle of pain relief medicine, checking the label and giving it a careful sniff. 

"This should be strong enough," he murmurs, making a face, and then turns to Desmond. He waits for an exhale, pinches the man's nose for a moment, holding the bottle under it, and releases him – making sure that all Desmond inhales is the smell of the medicine.

The young man comes to with a terrible bout of coughing, wincing away from the smell with a groan and complaint in his native tongue. While Leonardo quickly caps the bottle, Ezio holds the rush high for all of them to see. The shock, when Desmond realises who they are, is palpable.

"Ezio," he says, and sits up sharply, looking around. "Oh. Oh damn. You _didn't_."

"We did," Ezio says without a shred of remorse. "And you are welcome."

Leonardo winces. "We couldn't just let you die, after what we saw," he says, fretful. "And it is obvious Minerva intended you to be saved as well – and now you have plenty of time to figure out another way to save the world –"

"I already _had_ a way to do it, and it was going to work," Desmond says and clumsily gets up to his feet. "Fuck, I'm really - here? This is insane even for me. This is your time, right? You pulled me into your time."

"Yes, we did," Ezio says, a little irritated by this reaction, standing up also. "And we will figure out a way to do what you intended – without either sacrificing you, nor releasing Juno into the world. There is all the time you need now, yes?"

Desmond looks at him, looks as though he is about to argue and then obviously thinks better of it. His shoulders slump and he signs. "Damn. Thank you – you – I don't even know why or how you did it, you didn't have to, but… yeah."

Ezio eyes him warily and then nods. "You know more of this chamber than we do," he says then and helps Leonardo to his feet. "We've been trapped here for nearly three days – is there a way out?"

"Um. I have no idea, but…" Desmond looks around and then turns to one of the two pedestals – the smaller one, not the one on the central platform. While Ezio and Leonardo share a look, he takes a few running steps towards it and then reaches for it, hovering his hand over it.

Immediately the chamber lights up around them, blue light spreading like flash fire from the pedestal and from Desmond, drawing lines on the floor and lighting up the walls once more. Ezio looks up while Leonardo sighs with relief – the pedestal had done no such thing when he'd tried.

"How does it work?" Ezio asks

"They react to your DNA – your blood," Desmond says, looking at his hand in puzzlement, examining the mark left on it by the Eye - the branching red trails that reach from his palm to his arm. "Huh. Anyway, the technology reacts to your – familial inheritance, I guess. And mine is –"

There is a build up of light, a gathering of golden beams – and then, of course, there is Juno, appearing before Desmond and setting Ezio's nerves aflame with tension and alarm. Desmond, for all that the spectre has done to him, looks neither shocked nor all that wary.

_"What –"_ Juno asks, gaping at the young man. _"What is this – how are you here? You are not supposed to be here – this is all wrong. This should not be – WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"_

"Yeah, hi to you too," Desmond says, calm, while Ezio and Leonardo move forward, Ezio wishing desperately that he could put a knife to a spirit and kill it. Desmond glances at them, then around the chamber, and then looks at Juno. "Open the door."

_"Tell me what you have done!"_ Juno demands. _"What is this – how have you tampered with time?"_

"Magic," Desmond says with a grim smile. "Open the door, Juno."

_"No! I must fix this, I must – calculate,"_ Juno says. _"This is wrong, this is not part of the design – you have broken the pattern, I must fix this – "_

_"It has been fixed, and not by you, not by us,"_ another voice says, prim, and Minerva appears on Desmond's side, waving her hand over his. There is a distant _clunk_ of mechanisms moving, and at long last, the stone door that trapped them in the vault begins to open.

Minerva looks at Ezio and then at Desmond. She's smiling – she seems almost proud of them. _"You have been given time – make use of it,"_ she says to him firmly. _"Find me when you are ready."_

_"NO!"_ Juno wails as light begins drawing up on Minerva, making her glow like the sunrise – and, once more, all the light goes out of the vault, taking with it both Minerva and Juno.

Ezio is tense all over, wary, while Desmond stands by the pedestal, barely visible in the sudden darkness, which the rushes barely dent. "I think Minerva just drained this place's batteries," Desmond murmurs, waving his hand over the pedestal. "Yeah, it's all empty."

"Batteries?" Leonardo asks, apparently unable to help himself.

"Power sources," Desmond says and lets his hand fall. "Looks like this place is dead now."

Ezio draws a slow breath and blows it out. He's shaking again, the tension slowly draining, leaving him feeling weak and as drained as the Temple around them. "Then, by god, let us _leave_," he says through gritted teeth.

Desmond looks a little surprised by the vehemence. "Um, should we figure this out first?" he asks warily

"I too would like to go, and the sooner the better," Leonardo adds, with a sigh. "As exciting as all this is…"

"We've not eaten or drank in over two days, Desmond," Ezio says, shaking his head. "And it is starting to take a toll."

Desmond looks at first confused and then alarmed by that. "Yeah," he says. "Okay. Let's go."

Ezio nods and goes to pick up the cape he'd taken off to use as a pillow, while Leonardo picks up his cape as well, looking increasingly more shaky as he does it. Freedom in sight, with all the hope for food, drink and maybe even rest, they feel the strain all the more acutely.

Desmond looks at them, still confused and a little dismayed, but not saying anything. After a moment of awkward hesitation, he picks up the Apple from the floor. Ezio pauses to look at him warily, but the Apple shimmers only briefly before going out in his hands – its tempting whispers silenced seemingly only by Desmond's narrow look.

And like that it's over. Together, they leave the Vault behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He has arrived


	7. Chapter 7

Ezio sleeps the sleep of the dead, after, with very little notion as to what happens during it. It is not the most restful sleep he has ever had, and upon awakening he still feels terrible – but it was undisturbed and long, he can tell that by the feel of his body alone. It has been a long time since he has felt so stiff and achy, feeling less like a man and more like a crumbling statue, trying to stretch out stony limbs.

Memory of what occurred comes slowly, sluggishly, like an unwilling snail. The vault, Leonardo – Desmond.

They had left the vault with little difficulty and then fell upon the first clean fountain they had found, drinking themselves to near sickness. After that, between him and Leonardo they had decided his workshop was closer, and neither had the energy to face the Assassins, or their questions. They'd made their way to the bottega instead – journey of which Ezio remembers very little. Of the arrival, he remembers nothing at all.

He is in Leonardo's room now, so presumably they had made it. The bed feels almost unbearably soft, after the hard stone of the Vault – he sinks in it like he does not into his own bed. Leonardo, luxurious bastard that he is, has a feather mattress with velvet sheets.

Ezio groans and runs a hand over his face and his aching forehead, rubbing his thumbs over his gritty eyes. Then he looks around. There are water and food at his bedside: fruits, bread, some nuts. Looking at them, Ezio remembers acutely the first drink he had upon leaving the vault – and how sick he felt after. He had almost thrown up – Leonardo had, he recalls, heaving the water over the cobblestones.

What a sight they had made.

Sitting up slowly, wary of dizziness, Ezio reaches for the water, pouring for himself and then taking a few careful sips, rolling the water around his mouth before swallowing. He still feels overly dry, like a dried up grape – just looking at his arms he can tell he has lost weight. His skin feels tight over flesh, and the definition of his muscles seems somehow obscene.

Eating careful bites of the fruit, Ezio pulls on his robes again – wondering who had undressed him – and then ventures out in search of others.

Leonardo is awake, and so is Desmond – they are in the workshop, standing by one of Leonardo's worktables. The young man has been redressed in Ezio's absence – his original clothing from the future sits on the table, folded, and instead he wears a new set of clothing – dark hose and a pale grey doublet, both of which must be Leonardo's judging by the length. Desmond's feet are bare, however, so Leonardo's footwear did not fit him.

Desmond notices him first and glances up – the young man looks a little embarrassed, tugging at the hem of the doublet he's wearing. His distraction warns Leonardo, who also looks up.

"Ah, Ezio! You are awake," the engineer says, relieved. "You slept for good nine hours, and I suspect it was needed. How are you feeling?"

"I have felt better," Ezio admits. "But I expect I'll live." Leonardo looks better rested too, so he must've slept also, if not as long as Ezio, to his shame, had. The effects of the time in the vault are still upon him – Leonardo looks thinner about the face than usual, and the shadows under his eyes are still there. But he's obviously on the mend too.

Ezio looks at Desmond and is struck by the realisation that… he has little idea of what to say. Desmond looks at him, meeting his eyes, and he seems mildly uncomfortable – though more so about the clothing he is wearing than the situation. And yet…

Ezio had pulled the man _back in time_. With little more than resentment and bravado, he'd taken this man from the place he belongs and dragged him back, and he is now not entirely certain Desmond had any choice in the matter. Sure, he was about to die, and by his – by _their_ act Ezio and Leonardo had saved his life, but…

"Ezio, come, come see this," Leonardo says, either wholly unaware of the unease or wilfully ignoring it. "We have been going through the things Desmond brought with him – they are the most fascinating things! The construction methods, the _production_ of the future is something else."

"Is it safe to be talking about such matters?" Ezio asks, but goes to see, curious. "Where are your students, Leonardo?"

"Oh, away," Leonardo says without concern. "I sent them on errands, one and all – oh, and I sent Salaì to take a word to La Volpe, who will inform your hideout, so that they will know you are safe and well and will return in time."

"Your apprentice knows La Volpe?" Ezio asks, frowning.

Leonardo lets out a laugh. "Salaì is a frequent customer at La Volpe Addormentata," he admits. "It's where he spends most of my hard earned florins, gambling them away. Never you mind that – take instead a look at this."

He offers Ezio Desmond's hidden blade. Ezio glances at the young man, who shrugs, leaning back against the table, watching him.

The hidden blade is… strange in its design. The material it is made from is smooth, and black, and does not reflect light – the entire surface feels… soft, rather than smooth. The blade, when Ezio triggers it, is long and sharp and likely does its work well, but it does not feel like metal.

"It is _ceramic_," Leonardo says, excitedly. "There is not a bit of metal in it – the whole thing is made of zirconia!"

Ezio blinks, startled. "Would that not make it terribly brittle?" he asks, confused, and looks at Desmond.

The young man shrugs. "It's not as durable as metal, no," he agrees slowly. "But you can get it through metal detectors. Uh, security checkpoints which can detect weapons and such. And so as long as you don't hit metal or bone, it works."

"Hm," Ezio says, giving the odd blade another look. "Is that why you don't wear armour, either?"

"Modern firearms tend to shred most armour," Desmond says and relaxes minutely, some of the tension about his shoulders leaving him. "You'd need to be clad head to toe in bulletproof armour, and then moving would be too hard. So it's not really worth the hassle."

"I see," Ezio says and looks at him, consideringly. He is nervous and uncertain - which is understandable, considering the situation. Talking about things he knows seems to help. Handing the blade back, Ezio looks instead on the other items spread over the table – Desmond's worldly possessions - with hopes of finding something to put the young man better at ease.

The clothing and footwear he wore upon arriving are set on the end of the table. Beside them sits the strange slanted bag Desmond had carried on his back – and apparently, the contents of it. Case marked with a red cross, with strange things wrapped in thin, see through material sit beside him – a few of them look like rolls of bandage, the rest Ezio cannot tell the purpose of. Then there is a length of black cord, unlike any rope Ezio had ever seen, much thinner, gleaming slightly in the candlelight. A thin book, a familiar looking slab of black material and glass, a black tool with blades and other things sticking out of it, a strange device, light blue in colour…

While Ezio reaches curiously for the tool with blades sticking out, Leonardo instead takes the light blue device in hand. "This," he says, with gleeful enthusiasm, "Is a _camera_!"

Ezio gives him a look. "What is a _camera_?" he asks dubiously.

"It takes instant pictures of reality – like little paintings!" Leonardo enthuses and then shows him a little square of stiff paper, glossy and shiny – in it is a perfectly drawn image of Leonardo standing near the window, only a couple of inches in length, but perfectly true to life.

Ezio blinks in surprise, accepting the picture and running his thumb over it. He can't even feel the paint.

Desmond makes a face, half amused and half uncomfortable. "I only have a limited amount of film, though," he says and shifts where he's standing. "And once it runs out it'll be basically useless… if the batteries don't run out first…"

Ezio hums. Speaking of the camera is certainly not putting him at ease. Ezio considers the tool in his hand – it is like a set of folding tongs, with chisels and blades folded into the handles. "Well," he says, looking at the table. There are other things spread out on it – the bracelet Desmond was wearing, the device over his ear… "It is impressive, certainly."

It is all also a testament to how different the time Desmond comes from is – how different are the tools he is used to.

Ezio sets the tool down, clearing his throat. There is no way around it. "We should – speak of what happened," he says. "And consider what is to follow."

Leonardo hesitates and then, with some reluctance, sets the camera aside. Desmond runs a hand over his neck with a sigh and turns to Ezio, nodding. "Yeah," he agrees. "Yeah, we probably should."

They take stools from around Leonardo's workshop, pulling them closer to the table with Desmond's tools. The young man shifts where he is sitting, tugging at his clothing and looking still more uncomfortable in it. "Not used to wearing hose," he mutters with embarrassment. "Not something men really wear in my time."

"Perhaps robes would suit you better," Ezio comments, smiling a little. "You are a Master Assassin, yes?"

Desmond is surprised by that, glancing sharply up at him. Then he smiles wry. "Actually, I'm uninitiated," he says and at Ezio's arched brows he shrugs. "It's a long story."

"I see," Ezio says slowly. "But you worked as an Assassin – we saw you, your skills are not inconsiderable."

"Yeah," Desmond agrees, increasingly more uncomfortable. "I guess. There were extenuating circumstances, but for most of my adult life I haven't been an Assassin, or working as one. It's kind of recent, for me."

It does sound like a long, and likely a convoluted story. Most stories of Assassins are – it's not a life that is anyone's first choice, they all get drafted by fate and circumstance. As such, Ezio lets the matter slide. "In either case," he says. "I can provide you with armour and robes to befit your skills – in these times, they are still useful."

Desmond smiles faintly and nods. "Thanks," he says and looks between them. "How did you end up _watching _me, anyway?" he asks. "How did you end up in the Vault?"

"Well, it seemed rather prudent to look into the matter of Minerva's warning," Leonardo says, folding his arms. "Even if we did it somewhat late, all things considered."

Ezio casts him a look, unamused by the cheerful insinuation. "I didn't even have the Apple for most of the last five years – how would I have looked into it before?"

Leonardo shrugs and smiles a little. "I'm sure you would have figured a way, my friend, if you had even thought of it. Which you did not."

Ezio narrows his eyes. Well, Leonardo is in a better mood now, isn't he, the scamp.

Desmond looks between them. "You just got the Apple back?" he asks then. "From the Borgia?"

"It was a few weeks ago," Ezio admits and shakes his head. "And ever since then the Apple has been plaguing me with whispers and half realised visions. Speaking of which – where is the Apple?"

Desmond points to another table – Ezio hadn't even noticed the thing, sitting on it, half visible inside a loosely open pouch. It's no longer shining, not even a little bit, and its whispers have all gone silent.

"I turned it off," Desmond says.

"I – beg your pardon?" Ezio asks, blinking.

"The Apple – I turned it off," Desmond says and looks at them. "It's just a device, it has settings, modes – um. In certain positions it does certain things – and by default the Apples are always in this… I guess temptation mode? Juno's doing, I think. Anyway, I turned it off."

For a moment Ezio says nothing, just looking at him. "Is it… that easy?" he demands then.

Desmond grimaces. "It takes – affinity, which I'm not sure you have," he admits. "It's due to no fault of your own – you just don't have the right… familial legacy."

Ezio leans back a little. "You mince your words carefully."

"I'm trying to figure out terms you'd know," the young man admits, shaking his head. "How it works is based on sciences that haven't been figured out yet. Sorry."

"What kind of sciences?" Leonardo asks with interest. "Perhaps if you explain it…"

Desmond licks his lips, grimacing as he thinks. "Okay, um… You know how children inherit their parents' features, like eye colour, skin tone, hair, height?" he asks, to which Leonardo nods quickly while Ezio makes a face. "It happens because genes in our, um… you could say that people are built on a pattern, we all have our different pattern – our DNA, our, uh… forgot what it stands for, dio-something-acid. But anyway. Our features are written in our DNA, okay? You have genes in your DNA for blond hair, Ezio and me, we got dark hair genes, and so on."

Leonardo's eyes _shine_ while Ezio tries to figure out what does this have to do with the _Apple of Eden_.

As if hearing his thoughts, Desmond answers. "The Apple can read DNA – all Precursor technology can. It works like a key, making sure only certain people can use their things. That's why some people have higher affinity than others," Desmond shrugs and looks at Ezio. "It depends on how much Precursor DNA you have in you."

"Precursor, you mean – the Ones Who Came Before," Leonardo says. "Which means… you are related to them. You are related by blood to Minerva and Juno's people."

Desmond nods. "So is Ezio," he says almost apologetically. "It's where Eagle Vision comes from – we get it from them."

"What?" Leonardo asks, confused. "You mean…"

"The Eagle Vision - that's what Altaïr called it," Desmond says, coughing. "The Gift, I mean - the colours we can see. He called it the Eagle Vision."

Which means… "You have it also?" Ezio asks quickly. He's never met another – read about them, heard about them, but so far the only one with the Gift in his Brotherhood… was him alone. "You have the Gift of Sight?"

Desmond nods, making a face, almost sheepish now. "Yeah, I do."

Leonardo hums, stroking his beard. "And you looked back on this time using their technology – like we looked at you with the Apple," he muses.

"Um – no," Desmond says and shifts. "One of the things having Precursor DNA does to you, is that it gives you genetic memory. You can remember the things your ancestors did – it takes effort, machinery, but you can sort of… relive their lives in your head."

Leonardo gets it before Ezio does, sitting up straighter. "Then Ezio is your direct ancestor," he says. "If that is how you know, and Ezio was alone in the Vault bar from Minerva…"

Desmond shrugs, awkward, and casts a look at Ezio, whose eyes widen. "There's like twenty generations in between," he says. "Don't worry about it."

"So… all that time you spent sleeping in that strange chair, you were living my memories?" Ezio asks.

"Might've been Connor's memories, actually. Ratonhnhaké:ton's," Desmond says, rubbing at his neck. "He was – will be, another Assassin, living in the New World couple of centuries from now. He had and hid something I needed to find – um. How much did you see, actually?"

Ezio and Leonardo share a look. "We saw you in the Vault beneath Santa Maria in Aracoeli," Leonardo says. "How you lost consciousness and slept for many days – during which you were taken to the Grand Temple. We saw you work to retrieve the shining cubes and how Juno spoke to you."

"And we saw the end," Ezio agrees, folding his arms. "How Juno tricked you, how Minerva tried to persuade you away. When you touched the Eye, we acted upon what we saw – and the result of it you know."

Desmond looks between them, looking puzzled. "But – why?" he asks. "Why did you stop me?"

Ezio gives him a look. "Because," he says, "You were about to die, and we could stop it."

"I was about to save the world," Desmond says and shakes his head incredulously. "You _stopped_ me."

"It seemed wrong, all of it – a terrible malicious waste," Leonardo says and motions around them. "Now you have time to do things differently – change the future, keep Juno from having her way…"

"No, now I'm _here_ and not _there_," Desmond says slowly, pointing as if future is distinctive place with a direction he can locate. "And there's no one there to stop the sun from killing everyone on the surface of the planet."

"Ah, but it hasn't happened yet, and won't for another five hundred years," Leonardo says, leaning in. "From what I understood, time is not a place and it is not set – we can change things from here, and the future you came from will be different."

Desmond stares at him, shaking his head slowly. "Oh, the paradoxes," he says then, sounding almost bewildered, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm – sorry?"

"What happens if because of me being here, Ezio never has the kid who eventually leads to me – what happens then, hm?" Desmond asks. "I'm never born, I never come here, none of this ever happens, the world and all of time resets, goes back to its original configuration –"

"It has not yet," Leonardo points out. "Therefore it will not happen."

"Um," Desmond says, uncertain, looking vaguely alarmed.

"Or, it is not how time functions. What does it matter now, whether you or some version of you is born in the future?" Leonardo asks, somewhat smugly. "You are here now – in this time. And the future does not change the past."

Desmond gapes at him. "I'm pretty sure it just _did_?" he asks feebly. "You reached for the future, and now the past _is_ different."

"What past? Surely this is the present."

Ezio sighs and shakes his head, knowing Leonardo can speak around any man if he wants to – sometimes, there is no arguing with him at all, especially not when he gets a notion into his head. "In either case," he says, while Desmond looks at Leonardo with a vague expression of _betrayal_. "You are here now, and it is the present we must contend with. Desmond, what do you wish to do now?"

"What do you mean?" Desmond asks, drawing his eyes away from Leonardo's smug little grin.

"Like Leonardo says, there is time now – time enough to save the world from the Sun, don't you think?" Ezio asks and Desmond makes an uncertain sort of shrug. "I assume this is something you want to look into and work towards."

"Yeah, I guess," Desmond says, casting a glance at Leonardo. "I suppose I don't have much of a choice. Unless you can send me back… which I am thinking you wouldn't, even if you could," he mutters.

"With the Apple we saw other potential Temples, some not very far from here," Leonardo says. "One of them might offer new solutions – and Minerva did tell you to find her. I assume she didn't mean in the Vatican Vault."

"She might've," Desmond says. "Pretty sure that place still has power in my time too, since no one's found it."

"Then we will work towards visiting it," Ezio says. "But let us get you situated first – in whatever form you wish," he adds, somewhat guiltily. It is mostly his fault Desmond is here, without means to manage, judging by the fact that he can barely manage wearing _hose_ here.

"Whatever form?" the young man asks, confused.

Ezio nods. "We have space enough for you at the hideout, if you'd like to join us Assassins, properly, in this time," he says.

"Or you could stay here," Leonardo offers, smiling. "I have many rooms to house my students, I can accommodate you with ease. You would be most welcome here"

"Or, alternatively, I can sponsor you accommodations elsewhere," Ezio says, waving a hand – living with Leonardo Desmond would be subjected to no end of questions and theories, enough to drive any man to despair.

"You'd – what, buy me a _house_?" Desmond asks with disbelief.

"I own a handful of properties around Rome," Ezio admits and stands up with a groan – he's going stiff merely by sitting, now. The dizziness still lingers as well. "Some of them are quite lovely. If one of them might do for you, we can see to your comfort there."

"But perhaps first some… guidance as to how you may better blend in," Leonardo adds, offering him a smile. "From what we have seen, your time is very different, and not only for your mode of dress. Should you go about as you do in the future, you may stand out."

"Mhm," Ezio agrees. "And more fitting clothing, too, perhaps, which you could wear without obvious unease. And shoes."

"It'll likely take having a new pair made specifically for him," Leonardo admits, considering Desmond, raking his eyes up and down. "Mine did not fit."

Desmond does have somewhat larger feet, proportionate to his height. "Hm. I'll see to it – I know a good cobbler," Ezio offers. "And he owes me money."

Desmond gapes at them. "Um," he says, urgent. "You don't have to do that –"

"We're the reason you are here, no?" Leonardo says and smiles, standing up as well – doing it too fast, judging by how he sways and has to take support of the desk. Desmond looks alarmed by it, and Leonardo waves a dismissive hand. "I am only dizzy, it will pass. Never mind that – it is your comfort we must see to, it is only right. Besides, don't worry about costing Ezio money – the man is blessed with more than his share."

"I work for it, diligently," Ezio says, casting him a look. "And I don't spend every florin I make on every frivolous thing that comes across – honestly, Leonardo, _velvet sheets_?"

"What? They are lovely to sleep upon!" Leonardo says defensively. "And they seem to have done you some good, too."

"It gave me worse back ache than did the Vault floor, I think."

"Bah," Leonardo answers and waves a dismissive hand at him. "Assassins. If I didn't know you, I'd say you knew not to appreciate the finer things in life."

Ezio snorts amusedly and turns to Desmond, who is eyeing them with dubious concern. "Maybe you two should rest, before we do… anything," he offers warily. "I mean, two days in the Vault – you must be dehydrated to high heavens."

"Dehydrated," Leonardo says, slowly, as though tasting the word. "Interesting way to put it. I assume you mean lacking water."

"We have had water now," Ezio says calmingly to the younger man. "We're well on the mend, there is no need to be worried."

"Are you?" Desmond asks dubiously, considering him. "Gimme your hand."

Ezio looks at him with surprise. "I'm sorry?"

Desmond holds out his hand. "I want to check – would you give me your hand, _please_?"

Ezio shares a look with Leonardo and then with a shrug holds out his hand. Desmond turns it around and pushes Ezio's sleeve back a little – and then he gently pinches the skin on the pack of his wrist, holding for a moment and then releasing. "Hmm," he says, and pokes at the skin – which Ezio is rather confused to find _stays pinched_. "Definitely not recovered. You're still way dehydrated."

"Oh, you can tell by the skin?" Leonardo asks, leaning in curiously.

"Yeah – when you get dehydrated, your skin goes like this," Desmond says and pinches Ezio's skin it again. "It doesn't bounce back as fast as it should – loses elasticity. Happened to me a lot in the beginning."

"Fascinating," Leonardo murmurs. "I never knew – why does it happen? How does lack of water affect your skin – surely it is a matter of humours."

Desmond looks at him. "Um. No," he says slowly. "Humours aren't really a thing –"

"I don't mean in the classical sense of humours – I know the human body is more complicated than that. But the matter that makes human skin – I know there is no water there –"

"Oh boy," Desmond says, still holding Ezio's hand in his. "Um, well. Yes, actually, there is. I don't know how to explain this, but, we're mostly water? It's just, so spread out and. Well, you can't generally _see it_ with the naked eye. But trust me, there is water everywhere in the human body."

"Hmm," Leonardo hums. "In your time people can see past what you can see with the naked eye."

"Uh, yeah."

"_How_?"

Ezio clears his throat. "Alright, that's enough – Leonardo, settle down," he says and pulls his hand away from Desmond's hold, rubbing at the back of his wrist, where his skin still feels oddly _pinched._ "I will have more water if it will please you – but this is all beside the point."

"Right, sorry," Desmond says, a little embarrassed again, rubbing his hands together and casting Leonardo a wary look. Leonardo settles back – but with a definitely interested gleam in his eyes, which spells trouble for the future. 

Ezio shakes his head. "Never mind. Which will it be, then, Desmond?" he asks. "Where will you stay? Here, the Assassins' headquarters, or somewhere else?"

"I…" Desmond trails off, considering it and then shakes his head. "The headquarters are probably safer. And you have information about the Temples and the Precursors, right?"

"Very little," Ezio admits, while Leonardo makes a disappointed face. "But it is more secure, yes – and at any rate, I should return sooner rather than later. Leonardo –"

"I will join you, " Leonardo says, standing up determinedly. "I am not quite done with this adventure yet, Ezio."

Ezio smiles. He didn't think otherwise. "Of course, old friend," he says. "But I was going to ask for a bag to carry Desmond's things in – one that would hide their nature."

"Ah. Yes. I have just the thing," Leonardo says, and bustles off to find it.

Ezio shakes his head after him and looks at Desmond. The young man still looks rather taken aback by it all. "Don't worry," Ezio says, reaching to pat his shoulder. "We will look after you until you are more settled in. And," he hesitates. "I am sorry for the trouble this will likely cause you. I know… you'd likely rather not be here, so I will do my best to make you comfortable."

Desmond looks at him and then nods. "Well, I can't exactly be mad at you for saving my life," he says and stands up as well, sighing. "Of all the lives I've lived, yours was always my favourite," he says. "So I can't say I really mind."

Ezio blinks at that – _of all the lives I've lived_ – and then clears his throat. "Well, hopefully we can make it enjoyable for you as well," he says and looks up as Leonardo returns with the bag – and a glass full of water.

Desmond turns to pack his things away, and behind his back Ezio shares a look with Leonardo, arching his brows as he accepts the glass and takes a drink. The engineer has the decency to look a little sheepish, but by the gleam of his eyes Ezio knows – Leonardo has no intention of _not _pursuing all glimpses of knowledge Desmond has to give, about the future or otherwise.

Not that Ezio can truly blame him. He doesn't either.


	8. Chapter 8

Watching Desmond take in Rome is somehow very gratifying. The night previous Ezio had been too out of it to appreciate it, but there is a barely concealed wonder in the young man's face as he looks up at the landmarks, how he turns his head to eye fountains and statues. It is almost endearing, how he tries not to stare and fails.

"Is this your first time in Rome?" Leonardo asks, obviously noticing it too.

"No, but the last time I couldn't exactly take in the sights," Desmond admits, eyeing the Carcere Mamertino and shaking his head. "It all looks different here anyway - in person."

"It was rather impressive to me also, the first time I arrived here," Ezio muses, smiling. "All those ancient buildings, even Florence doesn't have structures like some of the more famous landmarks of Rome. It is quite something, to see buildings so old." Though how they compare to the buildings left behind by Those That Came Before…

Desmond hums in agreement and is then distracted by another grand old building, showing past the rooftops. Ezio arches his brows and then glances at Leonardo, nodding to another street – not the straightest route to the hideout, but perhaps more pleasant one. Leonardo considers it and then smiles.

So they take the scenic route, meandering a little away from their usual paths, to show Desmond the Roman Forum and all the ruins surrounding it, along with the Arco di Settimio Severo, down past the Tempio di Vesta and through the Arco di Tito before making their way back. It adds quite a bit to the walk, but if Desmond notices or minds, he makes no mention of it – craning his neck this way and that, trying to see everything.

"There are many sighs to be seen around Rome," Leonardo muses, amused, while Desmond peers over the rooftops towards the Colosseum. "We entered the Vault via the Colosseum – was it the same for you?"

"Yeah – though I think the Colosseum is better preserved in this – in here," Desmond admits. "The arena was missing when I went through it."

"Oh, that's a pity," Leonardo murmurs. "But I guess it is inevitable. If you're interested in how it looks now, I'd be happy to show you around, if you would like. There are other fascinating sighs nearby also – the classical construction methods are really something."

"_We_ can show you, but later – first we have other things to do," Ezio says, apologetic, and shakes his head at the distant Colosseum. "Best we head for Tiber Island now, yes?" Before they would get wholly distracted.

There are aspects of the city Desmond does not enjoy, though his distaste isn't easy to spot, he hides it so well. Ezio can tell, however - the smell of the streets and how dirty some of the side alleys are startles him, and so does a pile of horse dung on their way, not yet swept away be the street cleaners. It's apparent that the young man is used to cleaner streets.

"We saw some of your cities," Ezio comments, looking away and wondering. "Are they all so well kept?"

"Hmm? Yeah, I guess," Desmond agrees, shrugging. "Have to be, for traffic."

"You mean those vehicles," Leonardo says, almost jumping up. "Oh, I meant to ask – how _do_ they work? Obviously some sort of engine is utilised, seeing as they do not use draught animals, but how can you produce enough power to move such things, and at such speeds, is it based on the Apple –"

"Later, Leonardo, and not here," Ezio says, fond but firm, and Desmond closes his eyes with a barely smothered sigh, looking amused but also vaguely relieved.

They make their way to Tiber Island, with only few distractions on the way. As they walk Ezio spots his students on the roofs, moving about, one of them running off and towards the hideout, to send a word ahead. That, Ezio knows, cannot be good – they don't usually feel the need to send a word of warning at his arrival. Someone in the hideout was demanding prompt reports, and it was not him.

Either Machiavelli is back – or Claudia is paying them a visit. Or something worse.

Bracing himself for whatever it would be, Ezio leads Desmond and Leonardo towards the hideout. "Let me handle introductions," he says to hesitant looking Desmond, offering him a smile. "Though my students can be nosy, please do not mind them – you have nothing to fear from them, nor do you owe them any answers."

"Okay, that actually… makes me more worried, but okay. I'd like to know what you will actually introduce me _as_," Desmond says quietly tugging at the hem of the doublet again. "So I can prepare to play my part."

Ezio casts him a look. "You are a fellow Assassin from far away, to be treated with respect accordingly," he says. "Is that not enough?"

"Well… I guess, but – my name?" Desmond asks warily. "You can't exactly tell them that, can you?"

Ezio gives him a confused look. Why ever not? The only ones who know it are Leonardo, Machiavelli, La Volpe, Claudia, Ezio himself, and their mother. All trustworthy, all capable of keeping secrets – all people to whom Ezio was planning to introduce Desmond to at any rate. "Would you prefer to keep it a secret then?" Ezio asks. "Live under another name?" The young man does not leave them with much time to think of one.

Desmond makes a face at that and they halt there, in the middle of the street. "Um," he says. "Shouldn't I? All things considered…" he trails away and looks rather at a loss. "I mean, I am – not from around here," he says pointedly. "Someone might get curious."

"Who would guess at the truth?" Ezio asks. "Honestly, it is stranger than any fiction we could come up with."

"As it is, you are foreign enough that it would be stranger for you to have a local name, rather than a foreign one," Leonardo comments thoughtfully. "Though we could give you an alternate foreign name, I suppose."

Desmond looks between them, frowning slightly – and Ezio isn't sure what's the impression he gets off the young man's expression, but it is not a good one. There is a spark of _hopefulness_ in the concern on his face. As though… he did not expect to get to keep his own name.

"Your – history," Ezio says slowly, "is remarkable. But no one knows it but us and a few extremely trustworthy individuals. There is no danger therein, not unless you yourself make it so. Or unless we _slip_," he adds, casting a meaningful look at Leonardo.

The engineer coughs. "I – know I have been quite eager," he says. "But it was never my intention to endanger your secrets. They are safe with us, I promise."

"And as such," Ezio adds, "You need not hide your name, not unless you wish it."

Desmond looks between them, still concerned. He glances around the street, making sure no one is near enough to hear, and asks, "You haven't – written it down, then? What Minerva told you, no one knows it but you?"

Ezio hesitates. "I did write a version of it down," he admits. "But it is under lock and key, and has only been viewed by select few – all people whom I trust implicitly."

Desmond still seems somewhat wary and concerned… but he nods. "Alright," he says. "If you think it's safe, then… never mind. Forget I said anything."

_I will not,_ Ezio muses, considering him. The mere existence of the question betrays an underlying fear Desmond harbours. Were he Ezio's student, it would be something he would have to mind. "It need not be mentioned again," he agrees. "Do you have another name but that of Desmond?"

"I do have a surname, but it doesn't matter," Desmond answers, sighing. "Probably better that one's left behind."

Leonardo coughs, scratching at the base of his nose. "You might be mistaken for a – a bastard," he comments awkwardly. "Not having a family name."

Desmond snorts and shakes his head at that. "Sure, why not – I basically am, so it's fine by me."

Leonardo looks taken aback by that, casting a glance at Ezio, who frowns a little. But then – the young man is an Assassin, and his family, whatever sort it happened to be, is not here. His legitimacy likely does not and never will truly matter – it is not as though he has anyone or anything to inherit, here, and his occupation, if he ever aimed for another but that of an Assassin, Ezio would likely help him with. Whether he was born out of wedlock or not, it does not signify.

"If you are certain," Ezio says and motions them to follow.

The door to the hideout is open, and people are waiting for them. Not all of Ezio's students are there – not even most. Most of them are out and far from Rome on missions. What few there are – Candita, Cristiano, Laura and Orfeo – are all standing at attention around –

"Claudia," Ezio says and accepts an armful of his sister, who, while not flinging herself into his arms quite like she used to when they were younger, is still very firm in her welcome.

"Ezio – where _have_ you been?" She demands, squeezing him as tough to strangle him. "You had Laura and Cristiano beside themselves – they came to me, and La Volpe, who has driven himself half _spare_ looking for you – we almost recalled Machiavelli!"

Ezio blinks and looks at Leonardo over his sister's head. "I thought Leonardo's apprentice sent La Volpe a word – for the last nine hours or so, I have been at Leonardo's workshop," he says. "Were there something urgent, I could've been found there."

Leonardo makes a face and runs a hand over his eyes, sighing, "Oh, damn it, Salaì…"

"No, we got no word, none at all!" Claudia says and pulls back to look at him. "Look at your _face_ – whatever happened? Where have you been – were you attacked? Candita said you disappeared sometime in the night, nearly four days ago now!"

"Ah," Ezio says, clearing his throat and setting his hands on her shoulders soothingly. "Leonardo and I had a – something of a mishap, and were for a while trapped in a vault underground. We were without water or food for a while – but everything is fine now, nothing to worry about."

"Trapped in a vault! Whatever were you doing in a vault?"

"Investigating," Ezio says, squeezing her shoulders and looking past her to his students. "I am sorry for the alarm I caused, but all is well. Candita, can you go and send word to La Volpe, tell him to call his search off? Tell him I am quite well – Claudia, did you write to Machiavelli yet?"

"No, but I was _close_ to it," Claudia admits, giving him a severe look and then turning to Leonardo. "Investigating what?" she demands, as if she'd be more likely to get an answer from him.

Leonardo coughs, awkwardly. "Old curiosities," he says.

Claudia narrows her eyes, looking between Leonardo and Ezio, muttering, "What have you two gotten yourselves into this time?" and then looking at Desmond. Her eyes narrow further.

Desmond coughs and looks towards Ezio, expectant.

Ezio hadn't wished to put the young man on the spot immediately – it never did good to any of his students, at least, to be immediately shoved in front of a crowd of curious Assassins. Desmond might never be his student, but he is young and inexperienced with the times and with these people.

Better get it over with quickly and as painlessly as possible.

"This is Desmond," Ezio says, and before Claudia can say anything, he puts a finger in her face, silencing her with a look. "He helped us out of the Vault. He will be staying with us here, in the hideout, as a fellow Assassin – please treat him with respect. And that means you too, Laura."

"What?" she asks, innocently. "I would not bother a respected guest."

"I mean it," Ezio says firmly, but with a smile. "Be nice."

"Hm," Claudia answers and folds her arms, stepping back – all but exuding her suspicion. But she is smart and knows when to ask and when to back down – and when to guide the situation elsewhere. "There are some reports that came for you in your absence – I took care of some of them, the rest are on your desk," she says. "If you will, let us go over what you have missed in your absence, o Mentor ours – I do have my own business to attend to, you know."

"Of course. We'll go over them right away," Ezio says, motioning Leonardo and Desmond to follow.

* * *

Bringing Claudia up to speed takes little time – she is rather used to believing the impossible from him, and only sighs and runs a hand over her eyes at the sound of their adventure. "Only you, Brother, only with you does a sister have to worry about _godly intervention,_" she mutters. "Are you certain you are alright?"

"Aside from a slight dizziness and headache, I promise you I am fine. And I am not about to die of thirst in the middle of our hideout," Ezio says. "Not unless my students have emptied the entire pantry in my absence, which would take some skill."

"They have not – and I restocked it, at any rate," Claudia says and then looks to Desmond.

Desmond is sitting by the window, increasingly awkward in his silence. He had only made a few comments during the retelling of the tale, mostly in the form of nods and shakes of his head. He had not objected to telling her, though, which Ezio had taken as a good sign – but he does seem very uncomfortable.

Claudia purses her lips in thought and then says, "You must be shocked, to have been so displaced," she says. "I cannot even imagine what it would feel like, to be in your shoes."

Desmond looks up and then, seeing them all watching him, coughs. "It was a surprise," he says, rubbing his hands over his knees. "But it could be worse. And I'm alive, that's… that's a pleasant surprise."

Claudia clucks her tongue. "When I heard of Minerva and the Vault, I thought it was so wondrous, all of it," she says. "But for her miracle to demand a human sacrifice… that seems like no miracle to me – more of a cruelty, really."

Desmond makes a face at that, and Ezio frowns, sharing a look with Leonardo. He hadn't even thought of it in such terms – of Desmond as a human sacrifice.

"Yeah, well. I'm not dead," Desmond says, sighing. "I have no idea what I'm going to do, but I'm not dead. That's… that's a start."

"Whatever will happen, we, the Assassins, will aid you every step of the way," Ezio swears. "Whatever it may be. Will we not, Claudia?"

"Well, obviously," she says. "Considering not only that my Brother pulled you back in _time_, but that your task is to save the world? It might be five hundred years away, but it is still our duty to see to it that it will not happen, surely."

Desmond looks between them and then smiles – a fond and somewhat familiar expression, in the sense that he _knows_ them. "You don't have to do that," the young man says, shaking his head. "But I appreciate it, thank you."

"I assume you will be looking for more of these Vaults, now?" Claudia asks, looking between him and Ezio.

"I suppose so, eventually at least," Ezio says and looks at Desmond. "But as there is no immediate hurry, we will see to Desmond situated first. For that I could use your help, sister – in planting rumours. Should the situation ever arise when people are looking at his background, it would be useful if there was some to be found."

"Hm, yes, I imagine it would be," Claudia agrees and looks at Desmond. "We can plant rumours and make sure certain people remember something of you, should anyone ask. What would you like – a former mercenary might work well, if you are looking to work as an Assassin in the future."

Desmond blinks. "I guess," he admits. "Though I've never been a mercenary, so if someone asks me about it, I wouldn't know what to say."

Claudia shrugs. "Then you were a poor mercenary indeed, and it is no wonder you quit the job – and honestly, few people really look into these things too deeply," she says and spreads out her hand. "As far as anyone knows, Claudia da Firenze is and always has been nothing but a courtesan, the daughter of another and the bastard of a nobleman at best, and no one will ever look deeper than that."

Desmond's eyebrows shoot up at that. "You… don't go around as Claudia Auditore anymore?"

"It is hardly safe, with my brother being The Assassino," Claudia snorts. "The disguise is paper thin and all the girls at Rosa in Fiore know better – but no one ever looks deeper than that. The simplest story is always the easiest to accept, and people see and believe what they want to see and believe."

While Leonardo casts him a sympathetic look, Ezio bows his head a little, guilty – though Claudia and their mother both have told him there is no reason for it. They chose their own sacrifices to make, when they decided to join him in Rome.

"I… guess mercenary is fine, then," Desmond says, a little subdued. "I know how to fight anyway, so I can swing it as far as that goes then."

"Hmm," Claudia says, pursing her lips. "Your mode of speech though, hm… We will have to place you far enough that no one will think oddly of it – tell me, can you speak any Dutch?"

"Er, no?" Desmond admits, looking startled.

"What languages do you know, then? Italian is obviously not your native tongue. Where do you come from, originally – which country?"

"Er. I know English and Arabic – and I'm an American," Desmond says and makes a face. "Er, from the United States of America – country which doesn't exist yet, and won't for centuries. I guess English would be the closest?"

"America," Leonardo repeats with interest. "So the name will stick? For the New World, that is? And they establish nations – I assume former colonies? You come from a former British colony."

Desmond grimaces. "Er, let's not… get into it," he says. "It was a whole mess of a thing, and I'd rather… not go there."

Leonardo looks a little disappointed but holds up his hands in acquiescence, while Ezio leans back, wondering. He had sent allies and even a couple of curious Assassins to the New World to see if they could establish a footing there before their enemies could. The assumption was always that the New World would likely be more extensively inhabited in the future – but he had not fully taken that thought to its conclusion. What it must be like, in Desmond's time?

Claudia hums. "English then – or perhaps a son of an Englishman, who never got to live in the country for long…" she considers it. "Possibly better not to go into too much detail. We will stick with a foreign mercenary, I doubt anyone will look too deeply into it."

"You would know the best, Claudia," Ezio says, nodding to her. "I trust your judgement on the matter."

"Why thank you, Brother" Claudia says, turning her eyes to him and narrowing them rather meaningfully. "It is always heartwarming to have your _trust_."

Ezio gives her a look, exasperated. She will never forgive him of the time when he didn't trust her with such matters. "You're welcome, Sister," he says. "How fares Mother?"

"In ignorance – I did not tell her of your absence," Claudia admits and stands up as well. "So she has been well and not fretting. But you will visit her soon, will you not?"

"Certainly," Ezio promises. "As soon as I can."

"As you can, yes," Claudia says wryly. "I will know to expect you sometime tonight – or the next month, perhaps, depending on your mood."

"Claudia, please," Ezio sighs. "I am weary and my head hurts – and I have _guests_. Can you please not, not today?"

She gives him a beatific smile. "Oh, but words have better impact in larger company," she says and then curtsies. "With that I will leave you to it. Leonardo, it was lovely to see you – and Desmond, it was a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well, Madame Claudia," Leonardo says, amused, "Give my best to Madonna Maria." 

Desmond nods, smiling a little at her. "It was nice to meet you too," he says. "And thank you for your help."

Ezio sighs, shaking his head, as with a flick of her scarf Claudia turns to depart, making her way out of the door with a satisfied little hum. Ezio smothers the urge to roll his eyes as Leonardo and Desmond turn to him.

"Now that _that_ is over with," Ezio says, harrumphing and standing up from behind his desk. "Would you gentlemen like a drink?"

Leonardo lets out a laugh while Desmond hums. "You're still dehydrated," he comments, but with a smile. "I don't think it will help there."

"At this point, I am beyond caring," Ezio sighs and turns to the wine bottle someone had readied for him, likely one of his students. There are even glasses for them all - fine Venetian crystal. Cristiano, likely - he knew Ezio's habits well. "I'll water it down, if you wish," Ezio adds at Desmond's slightly disapproving look, "but I will have a drink, now. I can brave my Sister with nothing less."

"It's always a delight to see you with your sister, my friend," Leonardo says, chuckling. "And I'll happily take a glass - watered," he offers to Desmond. "Just in case."

The young man looks between them and then sighs. "Alright," he says. "I can tell when I'm outnumbered."

Ezio smiles and pours for them all, offering Leonardo his glass first, and then Desmond his. "Welcome to the Headquarters of the Assassin Brotherhood," he offers, and lifts his glass in a toast. "To your enjoyable stay here."

"And to all our good health and continued hydration," Leonardo offers.

Desmond laughs, last of the tension bleeding from him. "I'll drink to that."


End file.
